THE  PI 
PEAK 


TERRY  IN 
NEW  GOLD   FIE 


EDWIN  -I/SABIN 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


'NONE    OF    THAT,    MR.    IKE    CHUBBERS!"     REPEATED    HARRY,    STOUTLY 
FORCING    THE    MUZZLE    UPWARD 


THE  GREAT 
PIKE'S   PEAK   RUSH 

OR 

TERRY  IN  THE  NEW  GOLD  FIELDS 


BY 
EDWIN  L.  SABIN 


"These  mountains  are  supposed  to  contain  minerals, 
precious  stones  and  gold  and  silver  ore.  It  is  but  late 
that  they  have  taken  the  name  Rocky  Mountains;  by 
all  the  old  travelers  they  are  called  the  Shining  Moun- 
tains, from  an  infinite  number  of  crystal  stones  of  an 
amazing  size,  with  which  they  are  covered,  and  which, 
when  the  sun  shines  full  upon  them,  sparkle  so  as  to  be 
seen  at  a  great  distance." 

— From  a  Geography  One  Hundred  Years  Ago. 


NEW  YORK 

THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1917, 

t$y  THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY. 
'*  fluid  Printing '    [  "••" 


TRAIL  AND  DIGGIN'S  PEOPLE 

OLD  ACQUAINTANCES: 

TERRY  RICHARDS Off  to  the  Gold  Fields 

MR.  AND  MRS.  RICHARDS His  Parents 

HARRY  REVERE His  Partner 

GEORGE  STANTON A  Tender-foot 

VIRGIE  STANTON Also  a  Tender-foot 

MR.  AND  MRS.  STANTON Their  Parents 

SOL  JUDY A  "Forty-niner" 

PINE  KNOT  IKE Not  so  Tough  After  All 

THUNDER  HORSE Bad  Medicine 

SHEP Ready  for  Anything 

DUKE  THE  HALF-BUFFALO  1        _  . , 

T  Ar  x;r        >•  ..  Queer  Wagon  Mates 

JENNY  THE  YELLOW  MULE  j 

NEW  ACQUAINTANCES : 

THE  SICK  BOY Who  Shows  His  Gratitude 

PAT  CASEY With  a  Taste  for  Pie 

LITTLE  RAVEN White  Man's  Friend 

LEFT  HAND Official  Interpreter 

HORACE  GREELEY New  York  Tribune  Editor 

JOURNALIST  RICHARDSON  . . .  Boston  Journal  Reporter 
JOURNALIST  VILLARD The  Cincinnati  Reporter 

GREEN  RUSSELL  1  _  .        ,  <rn 

~  s The  Original    Boomers 

JOHN  GREGORY  J 

MCGREW  THE  WHEEL-BARROW  MAN 

Who  "Pushed"  Across 

And  Certain  Others  of  the  Busy  Folk  That  Thronged 
the  Gulches  and  the  Young  Denver  City. 


PLACE  AND  TIME  :  The  Pike's  Peak  Country  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  1859. 

M23081 


CONTENTS 

* 
CHAPTER  PAGE 

L  To  THE  MOUNTAINS  OF  GOLD        .  i 

II.  THE  "PIKE'S  PEAK  LIMITED"        .  15 

III.  DUKE  ON  A  RAMPAGE    ...  29 

IV.  THE  TRAIL  GROWS  LONESOME        .  39 
V.  TOUGH  LUCK  FOR  THE  LIMITED    .  53 

VI.  JUST  IN  TIME         ....  65 

VII.  SHEP  DOES  His  DUTY    ...  75 

VIII.  THE  TRAIL  GROWS  LIVELY    .        .  91 

IX.  Now  WHERE  Is  THE  "ELEPHANT"  ?  103 

X.  "FORWARD    MARCH"    TO    GREGORY 

GULCH 116 

XI.  "RICH  AT  LAST!"    ....  126 

XII.  PANNING  THE  "GOLDEN  PRIZE"      .  138 

XIII.  READY  FOR  BIG  BUSINESS,  BUT  *  *  *  147 

XIV.  PAT  CASEY  HELPS  OUT  .         .         .161 
XV.  HORACE  GREELEY  COMES  TO  TOWN  171 

XVI.  Two  TENDERFEET  ARRIVE      .         .180 

XVII.  ANOTHER  CALL  FOR  HUSTLE  .        .  192 

XVIII.  NEVER  SAY  DIE!    .        .        .        .  201 

XIX.  To  THE  POUND-A-DAY    .        .        .211 

XX.  MILLIONS  IN  SIGHT      .        .        .  224 

XXI.  TERRY  MAKES  A  DEAL  .        .        .  233 

XXII.  THE  "VIRGINIA  CONSOLIDATED"      .  241 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

DRAWINGS  BY  H.  FISK. 

PAGE 

"None  of  that,  Mr.  Ike  Chubbers!"  repeated  Harry, 

stoutly  forcing  the  muzzle  upward (frontis) 

"Terry  flew  to  the  cart     .     .     .     flew  back   again 

with  the  precious  fluid" 65 

"The  giant  sat  down  with  an  explosive  grunt,  and 
Harry  stood  over,  scarcely  panting,  revolver 
dangling  in  hand" 167 

"You  dare  to  lay  hand  on  this  or  interfere  in  any 
way  and  I'll  show  you  what  a  Calif orny  Forty- 
niner  knows  about  protecting  property" 245 


THE 
GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

CHAPTER   I 

TO  THE  MOUNTAINS  OF  GOLD 

"TWENTY-FIVE  thousand  people — and  more  on  the 
way!  Think  of  that!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Richards, 
Terry's  father. 

It  was  an  evening  in  early  April,  1859,  an(*  spring 
had  come  to  the  Richards  ranch,  up  the  Valley  of  the 
Big  Blue,  Kansas  Territory.  Excitement  had  come, 
too,  for  Harry  (Harry  Revere,  that  is,  the  clever,  boy- 
ish Virginia  school-teacher  who  was  a  regular  mem-' 
her  of  the  family)  had  been  down  to  the  town  of 
Manhattan,  south  on  the  Kansas  River  and  the  emi- 
grant trail  there,  and  had  brought  back  some  Kansas 
City  and  St.  Louis  papers.  They  were  brimming  with 
the  news  of  a  tremendous  throng  of  gold-seekers 
swarming  to  cross  the  plains  for  the  new  gold  fields, 
discovered  only  last  year,  in  the  Pike's  Peak  country 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

"Do  you  suppose  it's  true,  Ralph?  So  many?"  ap- 
pealed Mrs.  Richards,  doubting. 

I 


2         THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Whew !"  gasped  Terry — the  third  man  in  the  fam- 
ily. At  least,  he  worked  as  hard  as  any  man. 

"I  believe  it,"  asserted  Harry.  "Manhattan's 
jammed  and  the  trail  in  both  directions  is  a  sight !" 

"So  are  Kansas  City  and  Leavenworth,  according 
to  the  dispatches,"  laughed  Terry's  father.  "People 
from  the  east  are  flocking  across  Iowa,  to  the  Missouri 
River,  and  the  steamboats  up  from  St.  Louis  are 
loaded  to  the  guards — everybody  bound  for  the  Pike's 
Peak  country  and  the  Cherry  Creek  diggings  there.  It 
beats  the  California  rush  of  Forty-nine  and  Fifty." 

"But  twenty-five  thousand,  Ralph!"  Mother  Rich- 
ards protested. 

"Yes,  and  the  papers  say  there'll  be  a  hundred  thou- 
sand before  summer's  over." 

"Oh,  Pa!    Can't  we  go?"  pleaded  Terry. 

"And  quit  the  ranch?" 

"But  if  we  don't  go  now  all  the  gold  will  be  found." 

"I  think  it  would  be  sinful  to  leave  this  good  ranch 
and  go  clear  out  there,  with  nothing  certain,"  voiced 
his  mother,  anxiously.  "You  know  it  almost  killed 
your  father.  He'd  never  have  got  home,  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  you." 

"That  was  when  he  was  coming  back,  and  we 
wouldn't  need  to  come  back,"  argued  Terry.  "And  he 
fetched  some  gold,  too,  didn't  he?" 

"And  hasn't  recovered  yet !"  triumphed  Mother  Rich- 
ards. "He  couldn't  possibly  stand  another  long  over- 
land trip — and  I  don't  want  to  stand  it,  either.  Why, 
we're  just  nicely  settled,  all  together  again,  on  our  own 
farm." 


TO  THE  MOUNTAINS  OF  GOLD  3 

"Well,  some  of  us  ought  to  go,"  persisted  Terry. 
"I'd  a  heap  rather  dig  gold  than  plant  it.' 

"I  notice  you  aren't  extra  fond  of  digging  potatoes, 
though,"  slily  remarked  Harry.  "You  say  it  makes 
your  back  ache !" 

"Digging  gold's  different,"  retorted  Terry.  "Be- 
sides, we've  a  gold  mine  already,  haven't  we?  Tho 
one  dad  discovered.  If  we  don't  get  there  soon  some- 
body else  will  dig  everything  out  of  it  and  we'll  have 
only  a  hole." 

"That  will  be  a  cellar  for  us,  anyway,  to  put  a  house 
over,"  mused  Harry,  who  always  saw  opportunities. 

"I  don't  lay  much  store  on  that  claim  of  mine,"  con- 
fessed Terry's  father.  "The  country'll  be  over-run, 
and  if  the  spot  was  worth  anything  it's  probably 
jumped,  or  will  be  jumped  very  quickly.  And  I  don't 
remember  where  it  is." 

"But  what  a  rush !"  faltered  Mrs.  Richards,  glancing 
through  the  paper.  "The  news  does  say  twenty-five 
thousand  people  about  to  cross  the  plains  and  more 
coming.  I  do  declare!  I'm  sure  some  of  them  will 
suffer  dreadfully." 

"Yes;  they'll  earn  their  way,  all  right,"  agreed 
Father  Richards.  "It's  a  tough  region,  yonder  at  the 
mountains — and  the  more  people,  the  tighter  the  liv- 
ing, till  they  raise  other  crops  than  gold." 

"Then  that's  the  reason  why  we  ought  to  be  start- 
ing— so  as  to  get  in  ahead,"  persisted  Terry.  "This 
ranching's  awful  slow,  and  it's  toler'ble  hard  work, 
too.  Putting  stuff  in  and  taking  it  out  again." 

"You  can't  expect  to  'take  stuff  out'  unless  you  do 


4         THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

put  some  in,  first,  can  you?"  demanded  his  father. 
"That's  the  law  of  life.  But  if  you  think  you  can 
dodge  hard  work,  go  on  and  try." 

"Where?"  blurted  Terry. 

"Anywhere.  To  the  Pike's  Peak  country.  You  have 
my  permission."  And  his  father's  blue  eyes  twinkled. 

"Oh,  Ralph!"  protested  Terry's  mother,  aghast. 
"Don't  joke  about  it." 

"Aw,  I  can't  go  alone,"  stammered  Terry,  taken 
aback. 

"I'm  not  joking,"  asserted  Father  Richards.  "But 
he'll  have  to  find  his  own  outfit,  like  other  gold-seek- 
ers. Then  he  can  go,  and  we'll  follow  when  we  can." 

Mother  Richards  dropped  the  paper. 

"Ralph!    Have  you  the  fever  again?    Oh,  dear!" 

Gold-fever  she  meant,  of  course.  Father  Richards 
smiled,  and  rubbed  his  hair  where  it  showed  a  white 
streak  over  the  wound  received  when  on  their  road  out 
from  the  Missouri  River,  a  year  ago,  to  settle  on  the 
ranch,  he  had  been  knocked  off  his  horse  in  fording 
Wildcat  Creek,  and  had  disappeared  for  months.  Only 
by  great  good  fortune  had  Terry  found  him,  wander- 
ing in,  through  a  blizzard,  from  the  Pike's  Peak  gold 
fields ;  and  had  brought  him  home  in  time  for  a  merry 
Christmas. 

"Not  'again.'  Don't  know  as  I'd  call  it  gold-fever, 
exactly.  But  I  feel  a  bit  like  Terry  does — I  want  to 
join  the  crowd.  It  was  the  same  way,  in  coming  to 
Kansas.  We  thought  this  was  to  be  the  West;  and 
now  there's  another  West.  This  ranch  can  be  made  to 
pay — I'm  certain  it  can  if  we're  able  to  hold  on  long 


TO  THE  MOUNTAINS  OF  GOLD  5 

enough  and  weather  the  droughts  and  grasshoppers  and 
low  prices.  But " 

"Harry  and  Terry  and  I  made  it  pay,"  reminded 
Mother  Richards,  with  a  flash  of  pride. 

"Yes,  you  all  did  bravely.  But  you  managed  it  by 
cutting  and  selling  the  timber.  The  timber  won't  last 
forever,  and  the  grasshoppers  may!  This  is  rather  a 
lonely  life,  for  you,  yet,  up  in  here.  Out  at  the  moun- 
tains, though,  they've  founded  those  two  towns,  Den- 
ver and  Auraria,  and  probably  others;  and  I  believe 
opportunities  will  be  more  there  than  here." 

"Do  you  intend  to  sell  the  ranch  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Rich- 
ards, a  little  pale.  She  loved  the  ranch,  which  she 
had  helped  to  make. 

"We'll  talk  that  over.  I  wouldn't  sell  unless  you 
consented.  It's  your  place;  you  and  Terry  and 
Harry' ve  done  most  of  the  work." 

"But  you  said  I  could  go  right  away,  Pa;  didn't 
you  ?"  enthused  Terry.  "Then  I'll  take  the  wagon  and 
Buck  and  Spot,  and  Shep — and  Harry;  and " 

"Hold  on,"  bade  his  father.  "Not  quite  so  fast.  I 
said  you're  to  find  your  own  outfit.  If  we  sell  the 
ranch,  you'll  have  to  leave  part  of  it  as  a  sample  to 
show  to  customers.  Those  oxen  are  valuable.  Oxen'll 
be  as  good  as  gold,  in  this  country.  The  rush  across 
the  plains  will  sweep  up  every  kind  of  work  critter. 
If  you  take  Buck  and  Spot,  how'll  anybody  on  this 
ranch  do  the  ploughing?  And  if  you  take  the  wagon, 
what'll  become  of  the  hauling?" 

"And  if  you  take  Harry,  who'll  help  your  father  and 
me  ?"  chimed  in  his  mother. 


6        THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Shucks !"  bemoaned  Terry.  "There's  the  old  mare, 
and  the  colt — and  a  cow — and " 

"And  a  half -buffalo,  and  a  tame  turkey,  and  a  yel- 
low mule  twenty  years  of  age  if  she's  a  day,"  com- 
pleted his  father.  "Buck  and  Spot  beat  the  lot  of  them 
put  together.  No,  sir;  I'll  not  spare  those  oxen,  for 
any  wild-goose  chase  across  to  the  mountains.  But  I'll 
tell  you  what  you  can  do.  You  can  have  Harry,  and 
find  the  rest  of  your  come-along." 

"Hum !"  murmured  Harry,  who  had  been  scratching 
his  nose  and  looking  wise.  "That  sounds  like  a  dare. 
Let's  go  outside,  Terry." 

He  rose.  Terry  wonderingly  followed  him.  Within, 
Mother  Richards  gazed  dubiously  upon  Father  Rich- 
ards. 

"Are  you  really  in  earnest,  Ralph  ?" 

"Yes ;  after  a  fashion.  Terry  can't  make  such  a  trip 
alone;  he's  too  young;  but  he'd  be  safe  with  Harry. 
Enough  cultivating's  done  on  the  ranch  so  I  can  man- 
age for  the  next  few  months.  That  would  give  you 
and  me  a  chance  to  dispose  of  the  place  when  we  were 
ready — and  it  will  sell  better  with  the  crops  showing. 
And  besides,  I  agree  with  you  that  I'm  not  quite  in 
shape  yet  to  stand  the  trip.  By  the  time  we  were  free 
to  go,  those  two  boys  would  have  the  country  yonder 
pretty  well  spied  out,  and  they'd  send  us  back  reliable 
information.  Harry  has  a  level  head." 

"And  maybe  they'd  be  so  disappointed  they'd  want 
to  come  back,  themselves!"  hopefully  asserted  Mrs. 
Richards.  "Terry'd  be  cured  of  his  gold-seeking  fever. 
Anyway,  they  haven't  gone,  yet.  They  can't  have  the 


TO  THE  MOUNTAINS  OF  GOLD  7 

oxen,  and  they  can't  have  my  cow,  and  if  they  took  the 
old  mare  how'd  I  ever  visit  my  neighbors,  and  if  they 
took  the  colt  he's  not  heavy  enough  for  hard  work, 
and  the  yellow  mule  won't  pull  alone,  and  Duke  won't 
pull  at  all,  and  you've  refused  them  the  wagon — and  I 
sha'n't  let  them  walk.  So  I  don't  believe  I'll  worry." 

"Um — m!"  muttered  Father  Richards,  rubbing  his 
hair.  "I  won't  be  positive  about  all  that.  What  Terry 
doesn't  cook  up,  Harry  will.  They're  both  of  them 
too  uncommon  smart.  I  reckon  they're  into  some 
scheme  already." 

And  so  they  were.  He  resumed  his  reading  of  the 
papers.  Mrs.  Richards  proceeded  to  finish  the  evening 
housework.  Suddenly  they  were  interrupted.  Out- 
side welled  a  frantic  chorus  of  shouting  and  cheering 
and  barking  and  clattering. 

"For  goodness'  sake!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Richards; 
and  they  sprang  to  the  door. 

Harry,  who  walked  with  a  slight  limp  because  when 
a  boy  down  in  Virginia  he  had  hurt  his  foot,  had 
beckoned  Terry  on,  around  the  hen-house,  out  of  ear- 
shot of  the  cabin.  Here  he  had  paused,  and  scratched 
his  long  nose  again — a  sure  sign  of  mischief.  Slender 
and  smooth-faced  and  young  was  Harry,  but  stronger 
than  anybody'd  think.  The  way  he  could  ride  bare- 
back, and  could  fell  timber — whew!  And  that  long 
head  of  his  was  a  mine  in  itself. 

"Shall  we  go?"  he  queried. 

"Will  you,  Harry  ?    Do  you  want  to  go  ?" 

"Yes,  I  reckon  I  do.  I  always  knew  I  was  cut  out 
for  a  miner  instead  of  a  schoolmaster  or  a  farmer." 


8        THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"How'll  we  go,  then?"  demanded  Terry.  "Thun- 
der !  We've  nothing  to  start  with,  'cept  our  feet.  Dad 
says  we'll  have  to  find  our  own  outfit." 

"And  one  of  the  feet's  a  bad  one,"  commented 
Harry.  "I  suppose  we  could  walk,  and  carry  our  stuff 
— or  carry  part  of  it  and  come  back  for  the  rest." 

"Five  hundred  miles?"  cried  Terry.  "Aw,  jiminy! 
We'd  be  the  last  in,  if  we  tried  to  carry  stuff  on  our 
backs." 

"And  we'd  be  the  first  out,  if  we  didn't  carry  stuff," 
returned  Harry.  "We'd  be  frozen  out  and  starved 
out,  both.  Now,  let's  see."  He  scratched  his  nose, 
and  was  solemn — save  that  his  pointed  chin  twitched, 
and  his  wide  brown  eyes  laughed.  "We  can't  have  the 
oxen;  and  we  mustn't  take  the  old  mare  or  the  colt, 
because  they're  a  part  of  the  ranch;  or  the  brindled 
cow',  because  she  belongs  to  Mother  Richards'  butter 
and  milk  department;  or  Pete  the  turkey,  because  he 
can't  swim ;  so  that  leaves  us  Jenny  and  Duke." 

"That  old  yellow  mule,  and  a  half-buffalo!"  yapped 
Terry.  "But  they're  a  part  of  the  ranch  stock,  too, 
and  besides " 

"No,  they're  ours,"  corrected  Harry.  "Jenny's  mine, 
and  I'm  hers.  I  brought  her  in  here — or,  rather,  she 
brought  me  in ;  in  fact,  we  brought  each  other.  And 
Duke  is  yours.  You  rescued  him  from  a  life  among 
the  wild  buffalo — a  rough,  low  life,  the  ungrateful 
brute! — and  his  mother's  disowned  him  since  he 
learned  to  eat  grass  and  hay,  and  nobody  else  wants 
him.  Jenny  works  for  her  keep,  but  he  doesn't  do  a 
thing  except  bawl  and  eat  and  sleep  and  pick  quarrels 


TO  THE  MOUNTAINS  OF  GOLD  9 

with  his  betters.    He's  only  an  idle  good-for-nothing." 

"What  do  you  aim  to  do,  then  ?"  questioned  Terry, 
staring  open-mouthed.  "Ride  'em?  We  can't  have 
the  wagon.  You  going  to  ride  Jenny  and  make  me 
ride  Duke?  We'd  both  of  us  be  split  in  two!  I'd 
rather  walk.  I'd  make  great  time,  wouldn't  I,  on  that 
buffalo — and  Jenny  mostly  moves  up  and  down  in  one 
spot!  Your  saddle's  falling  to  pieces.  It's  just  tied 
with  rope." 

"Hum !"  mused  Harry.    We'll  hitch  them." 

"What  to?" 

"A  wagon.  I  know  where  there  are  two  wheels  and 
an  axle." 

"Where?" 

"In  an  old  mud-hole.  The  front  end  traveled  on, 
but  the  hind  end  stayed." 

"Jenny  won't  pull  single,  and  Duke  won't  pull  at 
all." 

"Make  'em  pull  together,  then." 

"What'll  we  do  for  the  rest  of  the  wagon?" 

"Make  it." 

"Huh!"  reflected  Terry,  trying  to  be  convinced. 
"That'll  be  a  great  outfit.  Where'll  we  get  our  sup- 
plies?" 

"Maybe  somebody'll  grub-stake  us,  on  shares.  But 
no  matter  about  that.  We'll  learn  not  to  eat  when 
we  haven't  anything  to  eat.  If,"  continued  Harry,  "a 
couple  of  fellows  our  size,  with  a  yellow  mule  and  a 
half -buffalo  and  two  wagon- wheels,  can't  get  through 
to  the  mountains,  I'd  like  to  know  who  can!  So  it's 
high  time  we  started.  Come  on." 


io      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  'PEAK  RUSH 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  first  ?"  demanded  Terry, 
bewildered  by  Harry's  sudden  movement. 

"Educate  Duke,  of  course.  We'll  put  him  and  Jenny 
to  the  drag  and  give  them  their  first  lesson.  You  be 
driving  Duke  in  and  I'll  talk  with  Jenny." 

Away  hustled  Harry,  at  his  rapid  limp,  for  a  halter 
and  Jenny,  where  in  a  stall  she  was  munching  a  feed 
of  hay  as  reward  after  her  trip  to  town.  With  the 
interested  Shep  (shaggy  black  dog)  at  his  heels,  pre- 
pared to  help,  Terry  hastened  into  the  pasture  and 
rounded  up  Duke,  the  half -buffalo,  from  amidst  the 
other  animals.  Duke  was  now  a  yearling — grown  to 
be  a  sturdy,  stocky  youngster  since  Terry  had  cap- 
tured him  and  his  brindled  cow  mother  during  the 
buffalo  hunt  with  the  Delaware  Indians  last  summer. 

Knowing  Terry  well,  and  tamed  to  everything  ex- 
cept work,  Duke  submitted  to  being  driven  out.  In 
the  ranch  yard  Harry  was  waiting  with  big,  gaunt 
Jenny,  already  attached  by  collar  and  traces  to  the 
drag.  The  drag  was  only  an  old  rail,  heavy  and  spike- 
studded,  used  to  uproot  the  brush  when  the  ranch  land 
was  cleared. 

It  required  considerable  maneuvering  to  fit  an  ox- 
bow around  Duke's  short  neck,  and  yoke  him  to  the 
drag.  He  seemed  dumbly  astonished.  Jenny  laid  back 
her  long  ears  in  disgust  with  her  strange  mate. 

"Be  patient  with  him,  Jenny,"  pleaded  Harry.  "He's 
only  a  boy,  and  part  Indian,  while  you're  a  cultured 
lady.  I  think,"  he  said,  to  Terry,  "that  I'll  do  the 
driving,  for  the  first  spell  on  this  Pike's  Peak  trail." 
Holding  the  lines  attached  to  Jenny's  bit  (but  Duke, 


TO  THE  MOUNTAINS  OF  GOLD          II 

ox-fashion,  had  no  lines),  he  fell  a  few  paces  to  rear. 
"No,"  he  added,  "that  won't  answer.  You  drive  Duke 
and  I'll  drive  Jenny.  Get  your  whip." 

Terry  stationed  himself  with  the  ox-whip  at  Duke's 
flank.  Harry  stepped  upon  the  drag,  and  balanced. 

"Gid-dap,  Jenny!"  he  bade. 

"G'lang,  Duke !"  bade  Terry. 

Jenny,  sidling  as  far  as  she  could  in  the  traces,  her 
ears  flat,  started.  Duke  stayed.  Consequently,  Jenny 
did  not  get  very  far. 

"Duke!  G'lang,  Duke!"  implored  Terry,  desper- 
ately, cracking  his  whip. 

"Pull,  Jenny!  Pull!"  encouraged  Harry,  balancing 
on  the  drag  now  askew. 

Up  went  Jenny's  heels,  down  went  Duke's  head, 
away  went  Harry  on  the  drag  and  Terry  on  the  run. 
Shep,  thinking  it  great  sport,  barked  gaily. 

"Whoa,  Jenny!    Whoa  now!" 

"Haw,  Duke!    Whoa-haw!    Gee!    Whoa!" 

And  from  the  cabin  doorway  Father  Richards 
clapped  and  shouted,  and  Mother  Richards  called 
warnings. 

Harry  was  speedily  thrown  from  the  bouncing  drag, 
but  he  clung  to  the  lines.  Having  careered,  plunging 
and  tugging  and  side-stepping,  until  she  was  astraddle 
of  the  outside  trace,  Jenny  stopped.  Duke,  who  had 
been  bawling  and  galloping,  half  hauled,  half  fright- 
ened, stopped  likewise,  the  yoke  crooked  on  his  neck; 
and  all  stood  heaving. 

"This'll  never  do,"  panted  Harry.  "Jenny's  too  last 
for  him — either  her  legs  are  too  long  or  his  are  too 


12       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

short.  We'll  have  to  train  them  singly  and  hitch  them 
tandem.  That's  it:  tandem." 

"You  mean  one  in  front  of  the  other?"  wheezed 
Terry. 

"Yes." 

"Which  where,  then?" 

"Oh,  Jenny  for  the  wheel  team  and  Duke  for  the 
-ead  team,  I  think,"  decided  Harry.  "By  rights, 
Jenny  ought  to  have  the  lead,  because  she's  faster ;  and 
Duke  ^ught  to  have  the  pole,  because  he's  heavier. 
But  Jenny  is  quick-tempered  with  her  heels,  you  know, 
and  Duke  is  quick-tempered  with  his  head,  so  we'd 
best  keep  their  tempers  separated.  We  can  teach  Duke 
to  'haw'  and  'gee,'  but  Jenny's  main  accomplishment 
is  simply  to  'haw-haw.'  " 

"Here  comes  George,"  announced  Terry.  "Now 
he'll  'haw-haw,'  too." 

Through  the  gloaming  another  boy  was  loping  in,  on 
a  spotted  pony.  He  was  a  wiry,  black-eyed  boy — 
George  Stanton,  from  the  Stanton  ranch  some  two 
miles  down  the  valley. 

"Whoopee !  Which  way  you  going  ?"  he  challenged. 
"What  is  it— a  show?" 

"Going  to  Pike's  Peak,"  retorted  Terry. 

"Tonight?    With  that  team?    Aw !" 

"Pretty  soon,  though.    We're  practising." 

"Watch  us,  and  you'll  see  us  drive  to  the  corral," 
invited  Harry.  "Let's  turn  'em  around,  Terry.  Easy, 
now.  I'll  hold  Jenny  back  and  you  hurry  Duke." 

"I'll  help,"  proffered  the  obliging  George.  "Gwan, 
Duke." 


TO  THE  MOUNTAINS  OF  GOLD         13 

"Duke !    Gwan !"  ordered  Terry. 

"Whoa,  Jenny!    Steady,  Jenny!"  cautioned  Harry. 

With  Harry  hauling  on  the  lines,  George,  pony- 
back,  pressing  against  Duke's  shoulder,  and  Terry 
urging  him  at  the  flank,  they  all  managed  to  achieve 
a  half  circle.  Duke,  his  eyes  bulging  with  rage  and 
alarm,  occasionally  balked;  Jenny  flattened  her  ears 
and  shook  her  scarred  head ;  but  finally  the  corral  bars 
were  really  reached.  It  seemed  like  quite  a  victory. 

"First  lesson  ended,"  decreed  Harry.  "Too  dark, 
and  we're  tired  if  they  aren't.  We'll  put  'em  in  to- 
gether and  they  can  talk  it  over." 

Released  into  the  corral,  neither  Jenny  nor  Duke 
appeared  to  be  in  very  good  humor.  Duke  rumbled 
and  pawed,  flinging  the  dirt;  Jenny  laid  her  ears  and 
bared  her  teeth.  Suddenly  Duke  charged;  whereat 
Jenny  nimbly  whirled,  and  met  him  with  both  hind 
hoofs.  Aside  staggered  Duke,  to  stand  a  moment, 
glaring  at  her  and  rumbling ;  then  he  turned  and  stalked 
stiffly  to  the  other  end  of  the  enclosure.  Jenny  "hee- 
hawed"  shrill  and  derisive,  and  kneeling  down,  rolled 
and  kicked ;  scrambled  up,  shook  herself,  and  began  to 
nose  about  for  husks. 

"Now  they  understand  each  other,"  remarked  Harry. 
"They've  agreed  to  pull  singly." 

"Say — are  you  fellows  really  going  to  Pike's  Peak?" 
asked  George.  "With  that  team?" 

"Yes,  sir-ee.  We're  in  training,  aren't  we,  Terry?" 
responded  Harry. 

"That's  right.  Dad  said  if  we'd  find  our  own  out- 
fit we  could  strike  out." 


14       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"We've  got  the  fever,  too,  sort  of,  down  at  our 
house,"  confessed  George.  "That's  what  I  rode  up 
about.  Now  I  guess  I'd  better  go  back  and  tell  the 
folks.  Maybe  I  can  join  you,"  he  added,  waxing  ex- 
cited. 

"The  more  the  merrier.  That  will  make  twenty-five 
thousand  and  three,"  laughed  Harry. 

"If  I  can't,  I'll  be  coming  later,"  called  back  George. 

"We'll  locate  a  claim  for  you,"  promised  Terry, 
grandly — as  if  he  and  Harry  were  already  on  the  way. 


CHAPTER   II 
THE  "PIKE'S  PEAK  LIMITED" 

"I'LL  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  spoke  Terry's  father, 
finally.  "I'll  lend  you  $100 — 'grub-stake'  you,  as  they 
say,  from  the  dust  that  I  fetched  back  last  winter. 
That's  half.  And  I'm  to  have  half  interest  in  what- 
ever you  find." 

"Hum!  This  sounds  like  a  good  business  propo- 
sition, if  you  mean  it,"  accepted  Harry,  scratching  his 
nose. 

"Do  you  mean  it,  Dad?"  cried  Terry,  overjoyed. 
"Supposing  we  find  your  mine.  Do  we  get  half  of 
that?" 

"That's  part  yours,  anyway.  But  I  don't  think 
you'll  find  it  unoccupied.  Doubt  if  you  find  it  at  all. 
You'll  likely  meet  up  with  some  of  the  Russell  brothers 
out  there,  though.  You  might  ask  Green  Russell  or 
Oliver  or  the  doctor  if  they  have  any  recollection  of 
my  being  along  with  'em,  one  of  their  Fifty-eighters, 
by  name  of  Jones,  and  if  they  remember  where  I  got 
the  dust.  Yes,  I  mean  it:  you  and  Harry'll  need 
supplies,  and  you  ought  to  have  a  little  cash  in  hand 
besides." 

"But  we  can  go  to  digging  gold,  the  first  day  we  get 
there,  can't  we?"  argued  Terry. 

15 


16      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"You  might  be  a  bit  awkward  and  break  a  pick  or 
shovel,  and  want  a  new  one,"  remarked  his  father, 
drily. 

Anyway,  the  $100  was  not  to  be  sneezed  at.  To 
be  sure,  Harry,  with  Terry  assisting,  had  proceeded 
right  ahead  making  ready.  He  was  a  wonder,  was 
Harry.  He  had  brought  the  two  wagon-wheels  from 
the  mud-hole,  and  (Terry  helping)  had  constructed  a 
two- wheeled  cart:  had  fitted  a  shallow  body  on  the 
axle-tree  and  attached  a  pair  of  long  heavy  shafts. 
Jenny  was  to  haul  in  the  shafts,  and  the  chains  of 
Duke -were  to  be  run  back  to  stout  eye-bolts. 

"You  see/'  reasoned  Harry,  "some  days  when  Jenny 
is  tired  and  wishes  to  stop,  Duke  will  be  pulling  the 
cart  and  she'll  have  to  come  along  whether  or  no." 

Jenny's  collar  and  Duke's  wooden  bow  and  single 
yoke  (manufactured  to  suit  the  case,  from  cast-off 
materials)  were  rough  and  ready,  but  no  worse  than 
the  rest  of  the  harness.  However,  on  the  whole  Harry 
was  rather  proud  of  his  work,  and  Terry  was  rather 
proud  of  Harry.  Just  now  they  were  engaged  in 
stretching  a  canvas  hood  over  the  cart. 

As  for  Jenny,  the  yellow  mule,  and  Duke,  the  half- 
buffalo — their  days,  of  late,  had  been  exciting  ones. 
While  they  were  being  trained  to  haul  tandem  the 
ranch  yard  had  resembled  a  circus-ring,  much  to  the 
alarm  of  Terry's  mother,  and  to  the  entertainment  of 
Terry's  father  and  the  Stantons. 

George  and  Virgie  (who  was  his  little  sister)  came 
up,  whenever  they  could,  to  watch  the  preparation ;  and 
Mr.  Stanton  was  considerably  interested,  himself.  But 


THE  "PIKE'S  PEAK  LIMITED"  17 

George  was  more  than  interested;  he  was  roundly 
sceptical — also,  as  anybody  might  see,  envious. 

"Aw,  you  don't  think  you're  ever  going  to  get  there 
with  that  contraption,  do  you?"  he  challenged.  "A 
rickety  old  cart,  and  an  old  mule  and  a  hal  f -buffalo ! 
You'll  bust  down." 

"I'd  rather  bust  down  than  bust  up,"  retorted  Terry. 

"It'll  take  you  a  year.  Look  at  how  your  wheels 
wobble."  And  George  added,  somewhat  oddly :  "Wish 
I  was  going." 

"If  it'll  take  us  a  year,  you  might  as  well  wait  and 
come  on  with  your  own  folks  later,"  reminded  Harry. 
"You'll  probably  travel  in  style,  and  pass  us." 

"That's  right,"  hopefully  answered  George.  "We'll 
pass  you  during  the  summer.  You  see  if  we  don't." 

"Said  the  hare  to  the  tortoise,"  gibed  Harry. 
"Terry  and  Jenny  and  Duke  and  I  may  be  slow,  but 
we're  powerful  sure — if  our  wheels  keep  turning." 

He  picked  up  a  tar-pot  and  a  stick,  and  stepped  to 
the  cart,  on  which  the  hood  at  last  had  been  stretched. 

"What  you  going  to  do  now  ?" 

"Don't  hurry  me,"  drawled  Harry.  "This  isn't  a 
hurry  outfit."  On  the  canvas  he  drew  a  letter.  "What's 
that,  Virgie?" 

((    Cr)>   J» 

"Right.     And  what's  this?" 

(t    IT)    |M 

"You're  a  smart  girl — a  smarter  girl  than  your 
brother,"  praised  Harry.     "Next?" 
"'KM" 

"Next?" 


18      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Next?" 

"A — comma !"  declared  Virgie. 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  deplored  Harry.  "You  go  to  the 
foot"  And  he  finished  the  word:  "PIKE'S."  He 
stepped  back  to  admire  the  result. 

"Pike's  Peak  or  Bust!  That's  what  you  ought  to 
put  on,"  yelped  George.  "Pike's  Peak  or  Bust !  There 
was  a  wagon  went  down  the  valley  yesterday  with  that 
on  it.  And  it  had  four  wheels  instead  of  two." 

"  Tike's  Peak  and  No  Bust,'  is  our  motto,"  cor- 
rected Harry.  He  daubed  rapidly,  until  the  words 
stood:  "PIKE'S  PEAK  LIMITED." 

"I  guess  you're  'limited,'  "  sniggered  George.  "Any- 
way," he  confessed,  loyally,  "wish  I  was  going  with 
you.  I'll  trade  you  my  pistol  for  a  share  in  your  mine 
if  you  find  one." 

"That  old  pistol  with  a  wooden  hammer?"  scoffed 
Terry.  "You  come  on  out  and  we'll  give  you  a  whole 
mine,  maybe,  if  we  have  more  than  we  can  work!" 

"I'll  cook  for  you,"  piped  Virgie. 

"All  right,  Virgie,"  quoth  Harry.  "George  can 
shoot  buffalo  with  his  pistol,  and  you  can  cook  all  he 
gets!  You  be  ready  tomorrow  early,  and  we'll  take 
you  aboard  on  our  way  down." 

"Do  you  start  tomorrow?"  blurted  George. 

"Sure  thing,"  asserted  Terry.  "Stop  at  Manhattan, 
is  all,  to  get  supplies.  Then  we  hit  the  trail  for  the 
land  of  gold." 

The  painting  of  "PIKE'S  PEAK  LIMITED"  had 
indeed  been  the  final  touch.  The  start  was  set  for  the 


THE  "PIKE'S  PEAK  LIMITED"  19 

next  morning  immediately  after  breakfast.  That 
evening  in  the  cabin  they  all  tried  to  be  merry  and 
hopeful,  but  Terry  went  to  bed  in  the  loft,  where  he 
and  Harry  slept,  with  a  lump  in  his  throat  after  his 
mother's  goodnight  hug  and  kiss;  and  although  he 
dreamed  exciting  dreams  of  a  marvelously  quick  trip 
and  a  row  of  mountains  blotched  with  precious  yellow, 
he  awakened  to  the  same  curious  lump. 

But  Harry  hustled  about  briskly,  before  breakfast, 
to  feed  and  water  Jenny  and  Duke.  Harry  was  al- 
ways the  first  out. 

"Gold,  gold,  gold,  gold! 
Bright  and  yellow,  hard  and  cold," 

he  declaimed.    "Eh,  Jenny  ?    Or  should  I  say : 

"Jenny,  Jenny!     All  pure  gold! 
Bright  and  yellow  and  hard  to  hold !" 

So  Terry  aided  by  carrying  the  stuff  out,  to  be 
stowed  in  the  cart.  After  breakfast  there  was  no 
delay.  Presently  Jenny  and  Duke  stood  harnessed 
tandem,  and  rather  wondering  at  the  decisive  manner 
with  which  they  were  handled.  They  little  knew  that 
six  hundred  miles  lay  before  them. 

"All  aboard  for  Pike's  Peak!"  announced  Harry. 
"You're  to  walk  behind,  Terry,  for  a  piece,  and  pick 
up  the  wheels  if  they  drop  off.  I'll  encourage  Duke 
and  Jenny  not  to  look  back.  Goodbye,  folks." 

"Goodbye,    Mother.      Goodbye,    Father,"    repeated 


20      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

Terry.    "Come  on,  Shep.    You're  going.    Of  course !" 

Shep  gamboled  and  barked.  He  was  going  and  he 
did  not  care  where,  if  only  he  went. 

"We'll  follow,  in  a  month  or  two — as  soon  as  we 
sell  the  place,"  called  Father  Richards.  "We  and  the 
Stantons,  too,  I  guess.  Get  posted  on  the  country,  and 
be  careful.  Good  luck.  Look  up  the  Russells." 

"Yes,  be  very  careful,"  enjoined  Mother  Richards. 
"Don't  get  lost,  and  don't  sleep  in  wet  clothes,  and 
don't  fail  to  send  word  back  often,  and,  Terry,  don't 
disobey  Harry,  and,  Harry,  don't  you  try  to  perform 
all  the  work,  and,  ,both  of  you,  don't  have  any  dis- 
putes or  quarrel  with  anybody,  and  don't  omit  to  eat 
hearty  meals " 

"Oh,  Mother  Richards !"  laughed  Harry.  "This  is 
a  Do  concern,  not  a  Don't.  But  we'll  remember. 
You'll  find  us  ready  to  trade  you  our  gold  dust  for  a 
pan  of  good  corn-bread.  Goodbye.  Gee-up,  Duke! 
Step  ahead,  Jenny!  Whoop-ee!  G'lang!" 

"Whoop-ee!"  cheered  Terry,  stanchly,  as  now  he 
trudged  in  the  wake  of  the  creaking,  lurching  cart. 
"Hooray  for  the  Pike's  Peak  Limited  to  the  gold 
mines !" 

They  were  on  their  way;  they  were  real  gold-seek- 
ers, bound  for  the  Pike's  Peak  country.  In  his  cow- 
hide boots  and  red  flannel  shirt  and  slouch  hat,  Terry 
felt  that  no  one  should  make  fun  of  their  rough-and- 
ready  outfit.  A  half -buffalo,  and  a  yellow  mule,  and 
a  two-wheeled  cart  with  a  regular  prairie-schooner 
hood,  and  a  tar-pot  hanging  to  the  axle,  indicated  seri- 
ous purpose. 


THE  "PIKE'S  PEAK  LIMITED"  21 

Black  Shep  loped  happily  from  side  to  side,  hunting 
through  the  weeds.  At  the  "near"  or  left  of  Jenny 
strode  Harry,  with  a  slight  limp,  a  willow  pole  in  his 
hand  to  serve  for  occasionally  touching  up  Duke. 
Harry  also  wore  cowhide  boots,  trousers  tucked  in,  and 
a  battered  slouch  hat,  but  a  gray  shirt  instead  of  blue 
or  red.  However,  a  red  'kerchief  for  a  tie  gave  him 
a  natty  appearance. 

"Duke!  Hi!  Step  along!"  he  urged.  And— "Not 
so  fast,  Jenny!"  he  cautioned.  Duke  pulled  steadily, 
keeping  the  chains  fairly  tight;  Jenny,  her  ears  wob- 
bling, but  now  and  then  laid  back  in  protest  at  one 
thing  or  another,  sloth  fully  dragged  her  long  legs. 
Together  they  easily  twitched  the  lightly  laden  cart 
over  the  rutted  road. 

George  and  Virgie  were  waiting  in  front  of  the 
Stanton  ranch,  to  see  the  gold-seekers  pass.  Mrs. 
Stanton  waved  from  the  ranch-house  door,  and  Mr. 
Stanton  from  the  potato  field. 

"Where  are  your  guns?"  demanded  George,  first 
crack,  much  as  if  he  had  expected  to  see  them  heavily 
armed  on  this  peaceful  trail  down  to  Manhattan. 

"Got  a  shotgun  in  the  cart,"  answered  Terry. 

"How'll  you  fight  Injuns,  then?  Where  are  your 
mining  tools — picks  and  spades  and  things  ?" 

"Get  'em  later." 

"Coming,  Virgie?"  hailed  Harry. 

Her  finger  in  her  mouth,  Virgie  shook  her  head  in 
its  pink  sunbonnet. 

"I  can't.    My  mother  needs  me." 

"All  right.    Sorry.    We  need  a  cook.    Duke!    What 


22       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

are  you  stopping  for  ?  Gwan !  Hump  along,  Jenny !" 
And  to  creak  of  top  and  jangle  of  fry-pan  and  tin 
plates  and  cups,  and  water  bucket  clashing  with  tar  pot, 
the  Pike's  Peak  Limited  pressed  on. 

"We'll  see  you  later,  though,"  promised  George, 
gazing  after  wistfully.  "Goodbye." 

"Goodbye,  George." 

All  down  the  valley  people  called  and  waved  good- 
bye, for  the  word  that  the  "Richards  boys"  were  going 
to  Pike's  Peak  had  traveled  ahead.  And  many  a  joke 
was  leveled  at  Duke  and  Jenny  and  the  two-wheeled 
cart  bearing  its  Pike's  Peak  sign.  But  who  cared? 
Everybody  seemed  bent  upon  following  as  soon  as 
possible;  and  as  Harry  remarked:  "We're  doing  in- 
stead of  talking!" 

Manhattan  town  was  a  day  and  a  half,  at  walking 
gait. 

"No  ranch  house  for  us  tonight,"  quoth  Harry. 
"We'll  start  right  in  making  our  own  camp.  And 
we'll  have  to  start  in  with  a  system,  too.  First  we'll 
noon,  for  an  hour,  to  rest  the  animals — not  to  men- 
tion ourselves.  My  feet  are  about  one  hundred  and  ten 
degrees  hot,  already.  And  we'll  make  camp  every 
evening  at  six  o'clock.  If  we  don't  travel  by  system 
we'll  wear  out.  There's  nothing  like  regularity." 

So  they  nooned  beside  a  creek;  had  lunch  and  let 
Duke  and  Jenny  drink  and  graze.  That  evening, 
promptly,  they  camped,  near  water.  Harry  had  elected 
to  do  the  cooking  and  dish-washing,  Terry  was  to  for- 
age for  fuel  and  tend  to  the  animals. 

Jenny  was  staked  out  for  fear  that  she  would  take 


THE  "PIKE'S  PEAK  LIMITED"  23 

the  notion  to  amble  back  to  the  ranch.  Duke,  who 
appeared  to  think  much  more  of  her  than  she  did  of 
him,  could  be  depended  upon  to  stay  wherever  she 
stayed.  Harry  boiled  coffee,  and  fried  bacon,  and 
there  was  the  batch  of  bread  that  Mother  Richards  had 
baked  for  the  first  stages  of  the  journey. 

When  everything  had  been  tidied  up  and  the  camp 
was  ship-shape,  in  the  dusk  they  "bedded  down,"  each 
to  his  coverings.  Whew,  but  it  felt  good  to  shed  those 
hot  boots !  They  also  removed  their  trousers,  and  used 
them  and  their  coats  for  pillows. 

Harry  sighed  with  luxury. 

"First  camp — twelve  miles  from  home,"  he  said. 

"Wonder  how  many  camps  we'll  make  before  we 
get  there,"  proposed  Terry. 

"Some  forty,  I  reckon,"  murmured  Harry.  "Six 
hundred  miles  at  an  average  of  fifteen  miles  a  day — 
and  there  you  are.  But  we  have  to  make  only  one 
camp  at  a  time." 

"Hello !"  cried  a  voice,  through  the  dusk. 

Shep  growled,  where  he  was  curled,  but  instantly 
flopped  his  tail,  and  with  a  quick  look  in  the  direction 
of  the  voice,  Harry  called,  gladly : 

"Hello  yourself.     Come  in." 

"Hello,  Sol,"  welcomed  Terry. 

They  sat  up  in  their  blankets.  A  horseman  ap- 
proached along  the  back  trail,  and  halted.  He  was  a 
lean,  well-built  man,  with  long  hair  and  full  beard,  and 
sat  erect  upon  a  small  but  active  horse.  He  wore  a 
peaked,  silver-bound  sombrero  or  Mexican  hat,  a  black 
velvet  Mexican  jacket  half  revealed  under  a  gaily 


24      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

striped  blanket  over  his  shoulders,  tight  black  velvet 
trousers  slashed  with  a  white  strip,  and  on  his  heels 
jingling  spurs.  The  saddle  was  enormous,  and  the 
bridle  jingly  and  silver-mounted.  But  he  was  no  Mex- 
ican ;  he  was  Sol  Judy,  the  American  horse-trader,  who 
had  been  in  California  and  on  the  plains,  and  was 
counted  as  almost  the  very  first  friend  made  by  Terry 
and  his  mother  when  they  had  started  in  to  "ranch 
it,"  a  year  ago,  while  waiting  for  Mr.  Richards  to 
come  home.  And  a  very  good  friend  Sol  Judy  had 
remained. 

"How's  the  Pike's  Peak  Limited  by  this  time?"  he 
queried,  with  a  smile,  as  he  sat  looking  down.  "On 
the  way  to  the  elephant,  are  you,  and  as  snug  as  a  bug 
in  a  rug?" 

"  'Light,  'light,"  bade  Harry.  "Have  a  cup  of  cof- 
fee, Sol.  Wait  till  I  put  on  my  pants." 

"No,  no ;  thank  you,"  declined  Sol.  "I've  eaten  and 
I'm  going  on  through."  It  seemed  as  though  Sol  was 
always  bound  somewhere  else.  "I  passed  the  ranch 
and  stopped  off  a  minute,  and  they  told  me  you'd  gone. 
So  I  knew  I'd  probably  catch  you.  I'm  on  my  way, 
myself." 

"To  the  mines,  Sol?" 

"Yes,  sir-ee.  Just  got  back ;  been  in  Leavenworth  a 
short  spell,  and  am  headed  west  again,  for  more  of 
the  elephant." 

"What  elephant?" 

Sol  laughed. 

"The  big  show.  'Seeing  the  ejephant,'  they  call  it, 
now,  when  they  set  out  for  the  Pike's  Peak  diggings — 


THE  "PIKE'S  PEAK  LIMITED"  25 

because  there  are  folks  who  don't  believe  there  is  any 
such  critter." 

"Did  you  see  him,  Sol?" 

"Well,  you  know  we've  seen  a  goose-quill  or  two 
containing  a  few  freckles  from  his  hide." 

"What  trail's  the  best?"  queried  Harry. 

"I  went  out  by  the  Santy  Fee  Trail  and  came  back 
by  the  Platte  government  trail.  But  those  are  too  long 
for  you.  I  hear  tell  a  lot  of  people  are  going  to  try 
the  trail  straight  west,  up  the  Smoky  Hill.  If  I  were 
you,  though,  I  wouldn't  tackle  that.  The  water  peters 
out.  You'd  do  better  to  cut  northwest  from  Riley  or 
Junction  City,  over  the  divide  between  the  Solomon 
and  the  Republican,  and  strike  the  Republican.  Jones 
and  Russell,  the  Leavenworth  freighters,  are  going  to 
put  on  a  line  of  stages  by  that  route,  and  they  know 
what  they're  about.  They've  surveyed  a  route  already, 
and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you'd  find  some  of  their 
stakes.  Anyway,  the  stages'll  overtake  you,  and  then 
you'll  have  their  tracks  and  stations.  On  the  divide 
you'll  keep  to  the  high  ground  and  head  the  creeks 
and  save  a  lot  of  trouble.  Always  travel  high ;  that's 
my  notion.  The  fellows  that  try  to  follow  the  brush 
river-bottoms  are  the  ones  who  get  stuck.  You  may 
have  to  make  one  or  two  dry  marches,  but  you  can 
keep  your  water  cask  full." 

"What's  doing  out  at  the  mines,  Sol?" 

"Doing?  There  were  about  two  hundred  people 
there  when  I  left.  They'd  had  a  nice  mild  winter; 
only  one  cold  snap  at  Christmas.  They're  all  collected 
at  Cherry  Creek;  they've  started  two  towns  opposite 


26      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

each  other,  near  where  the  creek  joins  the  Platte.  The 
one  on  the  west  side  the  creek  they've  called  Auraria ; 
the  one  on  the  east  side  was  St.  Charles  for  a  time, 
but  now  it's  named  Denver,  after  Governor  Denver 
of  Kansas  Territory.  Auraria' s  the  bigger,  to  date. 
What  it'll  be  in  a  month  or  two,  can't  tell.  That's 
where  they're  all  living,  anyhow :  in  Auraria  and  Den- 
ver. S'pose  you've  read  in  the  papers  that  last  fall 
they  held  a  meeting  and  set  off  the  Pike's  Peak  coun- 
try as  'Arapahoe  County'  of  Kansas,  elected  a  dele- 
gate to  the  Kansas  legislature,  and  another  to  go  to 
Washington  and  get  the  government  to  let  'em  be 
organized  as  a  new  separate  Territory.  He  hasn't 
done  much,  though.  Congress  won't  listen  to  him. 
It's  all  too  sudden.  Proof  of  the  elephant  hadn't 
reached  there  yet." 

"Are  they  digging  lots  of  gold,  Sol  ?"  asked  Terry, 
eagerly. 

"You  could  put  all  the  gold  I  saw  in  two  hands/1 
declared  Sol.  "It's  mostly  color,  and  flake  gold 
washed  from  the  creeks.  They  haven't  got  down  to 
real  mining,  and  some  of  the  people  who  counted  on 
an  easy  time  at  getting  rich  quick  are  plumb  disgusted. 
What's  been  done  since  I  left  I  can't  say.  But  the 
gold's  in  the  mountains,  and  it'll  take  work  to  dig  it 
out." 

"How  far  are  the  mountains  from  the  towns  ?  How 
far's  Pike's  Peak,  Sol?"  demanded  Terry. 

"The  real  mountains  are  about  forty  miles,  I  judge ; 
and  that  Pike's  Peak  we're  all  hearing  of  is  near  a 
hundred.  'Cherry  Creek'  diggin's  is  a  heap  better  name 


THE  "PIKE'S  PEAK  LIMITED"  27 

for  the  place  than  Tike's  Peak.1  Pike's  Peak  is  away 
down  south  and  there  aren't  any  mines  there,  yet. 
Well,  how's  your  outfit  behaving?  Does  the  mule 
pull  with  the  buffalo?" 

"First-rate,"  answered  Harry.  "They're  used  to 
each  other." 

"That's  good.  Usually  a  mule's  got  no  love  for  a 
buffalo.  You  want  to  watch  out  when  you  get  into 
the  buffalo  country  or  you'll  have  trouble,  sure,  with 
one  or  the  other  of  your  critters.  And  I'd  advise 
you  to  peg  along  as  fast  as  you  can  and  keep  ahead 
of  the  crowd  or  there  won't  be  a  piece  of  fuel  left  as 
large  as  a  match,  to  cook  ivith." 

"Jimmy!  That  sounds  like  a  rush,"  exclaimed 
Harry.  "Then  what  the  papers  say  is  true— about 
twenty-five  thousand  people." 

"Twenty-five  thousand!"  laughed  Sol.  "I've  been 
at  Leavenworth,  and  Kansas  City  too,  and  every 
steamer  from  the  south  is  loaded  to  the  stacks.  You 
can't  see  the  steamers  for  the  people!  Those  two 
cities  are  regular  camps — streets  jammed,  merchants 
selling  tons  of  supplies,  wagons  and  critters  hardly  to 
be  bought  for  love  or  money,  and  the  country  around 
white  with  wagons  and  tents  of  folks  making  ready — 
waiting  for  a  start.  Same  way  up  at  Council  Bluffs, 
where  the  crossing  is  from  Iowa  into  Nebraska  to 
strike  the  Platte  River  Trail.  In  a  month  the  Platte 
Trail  will  be  so  thick  you  can  walk  clear  from  the 
Missouri  to  the  mountains  on  the  tops  of  the  prairie 
schooners.  So  you  do  well  to  peg  along  early.  The 
rush  is  begun."  Sol  reined  up  his  horse,  preparing 


28      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

to  leave.  "Good  luck  to  you,  boys.  I'll  see  you  at 
the  mines." 

"We've  got  one  waiting  for  us,  maybe,  you  know, 
Sol,"  reminded  Terry.  "And—- 

"All  right,"  answered  Harry.  "We'll  see  you  in  the 
land  of  the  elephant,  anyway.  So  long." 

And  Sol  galloped  south,  into  the  darkness. 


CHAPTER   III 

DUKE  ON  A  RAMPAGE 

BEFORE  noon  of  the  next  day  Harry,  in  the  advance 
guiding  Jenny  and  Duke,  swung  his  hat  and  cheered. 

"Did  you  ever  see  the  like!"  he  cried.  "The  rush 
has  begun,  all  right." 

"I  should  say!"  gasped  Terry. 

They  had  arrived  in  sight  of  the  town  of  Man- 
hattan, just  above  the  mouth  of  the  Big  Blue,  on  the 
Kansas  River  emigrant  trail  from  the  east.  The  prai- 
rie for  half  a  mile  around  was  alive  with  campers ;  the 
smoke  from  a  host  of  dinner  fires  drifted  upon  the 
clear  air,  and  a  great  chorus  arose — shouts  of  men, 
cries  of  children,  bawling  of  cows  and  oxen,  barking 
of  dogs. 

"And  this  is  only  one  trail  from  the  Missouri," 
said  Harry.  "Hurrah!  Gwan,  Duke,  Jenny!  Gwan!" 

As  they  proceeded  down  the  valley  road,  for  the 
town,  presently  they  struck  the  overflow  of  the  en- 
campment, and  began  to  be  greeted  from  every  side. 
Duke  and  Jenny  apparently  attracted  much  attention. 

"Whar  you  think  you're  goin',  boys?" 

"Why  don't  you  get  astraddle  an*  ride?" 

"Is  that  a  genuyine  buff  lo?" 

29 


30      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Who  invented  that  rig?" 

"I'll  trade  you  a  cow  for  your  mule,  strangers." 

"When  do  you  give  your  show?" 

And  so  forth,  and  so  forth.  Men  laughed,  women 
and  children  stared,  dogs  barked,  and  Shep,  bristling, 
took  refuge  under  the  cart.  To  all  the  sallies  Harry, 
and  sometimes  Terry,  made  good-natured  reply,  for 
this  was  a  good-natured  crowd. 

Many  wagons  besides  theirs  bore  signs.  There  were 
several  with  "Pike's  Peak  or  Bust,"  which  evidently 
was  popular.  "To  the  Land  of  Gold"  was  another 
favorite  scrawl.  One  wagon  announced :  "Mind  Your 
Own  Business."  Another  proclaimed :  "From  Pike 
County  for  Pike's  Peak."  And  another :  "We're  Go- 
ing to  See  the  Elephant — Are  You  ?" 

As  they  entered  the  main  road  they  turned  in  just 
ahead  of  a  rickety  farm  wagon  with  flimsy  makeshift 
cotton  hood,  containing  a  strange  medley  of  children, 
women,  household  furniture,  what-not.  It  was  drawn 
by  a  cow  and  a  gaunt  horse,  a  goat  was  led  at  the  rear, 
a  dusty,  sallow  man  trudged  alongside.  The  wagon- 
hood  said:  "Noah's  Ark." 

"How'll  you  swap  outfits,  strangers  ?"  sung  the  man. 

"Nary  swap,"  laughed  Harry. 

"Whar  you  from?" 

"Up  the  Blue." 

"We're  from  Injianny,"  quavered  one  of  the  women, 
on  the  front  seat.  "It's  a  powerful  long  way  to  the 
gold  fields,  isn't  it?" 

"You've  hardly  started  yet,"  replied  Harry.  "But 
jus'-  keep  a-going."  And — "Whoa,  Duke !  Look  out, 


DUKE  ON  A  RAMPAGE  31 

there!  Gee!  Gee-up!"  He  thwacked  Duke  smartly 
on  the  shoulder  with  the  willow  pole,  and  ran  to  his 
head.  The  road  before  and  behind  was  thronged  with 
the  travelers,  and  Duke,  not  accustomed  to  so  much 
confusion,  had  been  waxing  restive.  He  snorted,  his 
eyes  bulged,  his  little  tail  jerked,  and  he  made  a  side- 
ways jump  at  an  annoying  dog.  Out  flew  Shep, 
rolled  the  dog  over  and  over  until  he  fled  yelping, 
while  with  rapid  commands  Harry  quieted  Duke.  Even 
Jenny  the  yellow  mule  was  showing  symptoms  of  re- 
bellion. 

"We'll  never  get  into  town,  this  way,"  panted 
Harry.  "Let's  drive  around  and  on  to  the  river  and 
unspan  for  noon.  Then  you  watch  Duke,  and  I'll 
ride  Jenny  back  in  for  supplies." 

So,  picking  their  path,  they  began  to  circuit  the  little 
town.  To  do  this  was  considerable  of  an  undertaking, 
for  the  tents  and  wagons  and  people  were  scattered 
everywhere  over  the  prairie,  and  Duke  much  resented 
the  shouts  and  laughter  and  smoke  and  barking  dogs 
and  the  incessant  orders  from  Harry.  His  eyes 
bulged,  he  rumbled  indignantly,  he  shook  his  head,  the 
froth  dripped  from  his  lips. 

On  a  sudden  a  mean  little  cur  darted  from  one  side 
and  nipped  him  in  his  heel — and  this  was  the  last  straw. 
With  a  lunge  and  a  kick  away  he  bolted,  dragging  the 
surprised  Jenny  until  she  also  lost  her  temper,  and 
together  they  dragged  the  cart. 

Harry  ran,  shouting.  Terry  ran.  Shep  yapped  ex- 
citedly. 

"Stampede!" 


32      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 


"Look  out  for  the  buffalo !" 
"Hi!   Hi!" 


"Head 'em  off!" 

Women  hastily  clutched  children,  men  waved  their 
arms  and  hats. 

"Duke!  Jenny!  Whoa!  Whoa!''  vainly  yelled 
Harry  and  Terry,  following  at  best  speed  in  the  wake 
of  the  lurching  cart. 

Through  among  the  camps  galloped  Duke  and  Jenny 
— Duke  cavorting,  Jenny  plunging,  the  cart  bounding 
and  skidding,  the  pails  and  cooking  utensils  rattling, 
people  scampering  from  the  path;  and  Harry  and 
Terry,  in  their  heavy  boots,  pursuing,  wild  with  alarm. 
Something  serious  was  likely  to  result. 

There !  A  dinner  group  was  shattered — away  rolled 
the  pot,  and  the  fire  flew.  There — down  collapsed  a 
tent,  as  the  cart  struck  the  guy-ropes !  Into  a  clearing 
burst  the  two  animals — but  straight  for  a  wagon  and 
ox  team  facing  them,  beyond!  The  wagon  had  no 
hood,  and  its  principal  occupants  were  a  black-bearded, 
black-hatted,  red-shirted  man  on  the  seat  and  a  large 
barrel  in  the  box. 

Duke  must  have  been  seeing  red,  by  this  time.  His 
head  down,  he  charged  at  the  wagon,  or  oxen,  or  both. 
The  man  on  the  seat  yelled ;  swung  his  arm  at  Duke ; 
swung  his  whip  at  his  own  team — tried  to  turn  them ; 
and  then,  in  a  great  panic,  with  a  mighty  leap  landed 
asprawl  and  losing  his  hat,  legged  for  safety,  his  boot- 
tags  flopping  and  his  shaggy  hair  tossing. 

"Ha,  ha !"  roared  the  spectators.  And  the  man  did 
indeed  look  funny. 


DUKE  ON  A  RAMPAGE  33 

The  yoke  of  oxen  suddenly  awakened  to  the  danger, 
and  sharply  veered.  Duke  just  missed  them,  at  an 
angle — he  and  Jenny  both,  but  the  cart  struck  the  rear 
of  the  wagon,  tilted  it,  tilted  the  barrel,  and  there 
stayed,  locking  wheels  with  it,  while  Duke  and  Jenny 
were  brought  to  a  quick  stand. 

Up  raced  Harry  and  Terry,  to  investigate  damages. 
At  the  same  time  back  clumped  the  man,  aglare  with 
rage. 

"Oh,  crickity!"  gasped  Terry.  "It's  Pine  Knot 
Ike!" 

"Hyar !"  he  bellowed.  He  searched  for  his  precious 
hat  and  clapped  it  on  his  ragged  locks.  Now  his  hair 
and  whiskers  stood  out  all  around  his  face.  "Hyar! 
I  want  to  ask  what  you  mean  by  rampagin'  through  a 
peaceful  collection  o'  citizens  an'  endangerin'  the  life 
an*  property  of  a  man  in  pursuit  of  his  lawful  okkipa- 
tion?  I  air  mild,  strangers;  I  kin  stan'  a  good  deal, 
but  now  I  air  after  blood.  My  name  is  Ike  Chubbers, 
but  most  people  call  me  Pine  Knot  Ike,  'cause  I  air  so 
plaguey  hard  to  chaw.  That  thar  air  your  buffler,  air 
it?  Waal,  I  will  now  perceed  to  eat  him." 

With  that,  Ike  whipped  a  huge  revolver  from  his 
belt — and  instantly  Harry  sprang  like  a  cat  for  him 
— grabbed  the  arm — "None  of  that,  Pine  Knot  Ike !" 
— bang  went  the  gun,  and  the  bullet  plinked  some- 
where, but  not  into  Duke. 

"None  of  that,  Mr.  Ike  Chubbers !"  repeated  Harry, 
stoutly  forcing  the  muzzle  upward.  "You  can't  shoot 
any  animal  of  ours.  Besides,  no  damage  had  been 
done." 


34       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Yes ;  you  can't  go  shooting  promiscuous  through  a 
camp  like  this,  friend/'  spoke  somebody  in  the  crowd 
that  had  gathered.  "Those  boys  aren't  to  blame  for 
their  stampede.  Put  your  gun  where  it  belongs." 

"Why  didn't  you  stay  with  your  wagon  ?"  demanded 
somebody  else. 

Pine  Knot  Ike  slowly  relaxed.  Harry  released  his 
grip  on  the  revolver,  and  Ike  glared  around.  His  fierce 
black  eyes  came  back  to  Harry,  who  stood  breathless 
but  ready. 

"We  have  met  before,  stranger,"  he  growled.  "You 
air  the  schoolmaster  who  nigh  murdered  me  in  this 
hyar  very  town.  You  know  me,  I  reckon?" 

"I  am  the  schoolmaster  who  made  you  dance,  with 
your  own  revolver,  after  you'd  threatened  to  kill  me 
if  I  didn't  drink  liquor  for  you,"1  retorted  Harry. 
"Yes,  I  know  you  for  a  big  bulldozer." 

And  Terry  well  remembered  the  first  encounter,  last 
summer,  between  Harry  and  Pine  Knot  Ike,  when 
Harry  not  only  had  refused  to  drink  but  had  cleverly 
snatched  Ike's  gun  and  ordered  him  to  dance  as  a 
penalty.  Yet  Ike  was  as  large  in  body  as  two  Harry 
Reveres. 

"Haw,  haw !"  laughed  the  crowd. 

Ike  glared  around  again. 

"I  cherish  no  bad  feelin's,"  he  alleged.  "I  air  a  man 
o'  peace.  I  air  so  peaceful  that  I  hain't  bit  a  nail  in 
two  for  nigh  a  full  week.  I  mostly  drink  milk."  His 
breath  did  not  smell  milky !  "I  air  so  peaceful  that  I 
gener'ly  lay  down  an*  let  folks  walk  on  me.  But  I 
would  ask  if  a  peaceful  man  pursuin*  a  lawful  okkipa- 


DUKE  ON  A  RAMPAGE  35 

tion,  on  his  way  to  build  up  a  civi-fo'-zation  in  them 
Rocky  Mountings  air  to  be  run  over  by  two  boys  an* 
a  wild  buffler  an'  a  yaller  mule?" 

"Hey !    Your  whiskey's  leakin' !"  called  a  voice. 

And  that  was  so.  Pine  Knot  Ike  exclaimed  and 
leaped  for  his  wagon.  The  odor  in  the  air  had  not 
been  entirely  from  his  breath.  The  bullet  intended  for 
Duke  had  punctured  the  barrel  near  the  top ;  and  now 
the  wagon  was  dripping. 

Ike  hastily  clambered  in.  First  he  tried  to  stop  the 
hole  with  his  thumb ;  next  with  his  hat ;  and  while  the 
crowd  hooted  he  shamelessly  stooped  and  glued  his 
lips  to  the  spot ! 

"Haw,  haw!     There's  his  'lawful  okkipation' !" 

"That's  his  idee  of  'civilization,'  is  it?" 

"Pity  the  hole  isn't  at  the  bottom  instead  of  near 
the  top,"  remarked  Harry,  disgusted.  "Come  on, 
Terry." 

With  a  little  help  they  freed  the  cart  from  the 
Chubbers  wagon;  and  driving  the  now  quieted  Duke 
and  Jenny,  proceeded  on  their  way.  Behind,  they 
heard  Pine  Knot  Ike  haranguing  the  crowd,  proclaim- 
ing that  he  was  a  "ruined  man."  But  he  seemed  to 
get  scant  sympathy. 

Without  more  adventure  they  completed  the  half 
circuit  of  Manhattan  town,  crossed  the  main  road  and 
between  the  road  and  the  Kansas  River  found  a  shady 
spot  where  they  might  noon  comfortably.  Duke  was 
tied  by  a  fore-leg  to  a  tree  (they  knew  better  than  to 
tie  him  by  the  horns,  for  he  was  strong  enough  to 
break  any  rope,  that  way)  ;  and  after  lunch  Harry 


36      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

rode  Jenny  bareback,   down   to   town,    for   supplies. 

The  road  up-river  was  one  line  of  outfits  toiling  on- 
ward under  a  cloud  of  dust.  They  were  interesting  to 
watch.  Was  the  whole  United  States  moving  west- 
ward for  the  mountains?  The  constant  procession 
passed — wagons  of  all  descriptions,  men  horseback  and 
muleback,  men,  women  and  children  afoot ;  a  party  of 
men  accompanying  a  push-cart  hauled  by  two  of  them 
in  the  shafts.  The  "Noah's  Ark"  wagon  passed.  And 
Pine  Knot  Ike's  wagon,  with  Ike  swaying  tipsily  on 
the  seat.  And  now  a  man  wheeling  a  wheel-barrow. 
But  he  did  not  pass,  after  all.  He  turned  aside,  and 
deposited  his  laden  barrow  and  himself  under  a  tree 
near  Terry. 

He  ate  his  lunch,  and  eyed  Terry,  Shep  and  Duke. 

"How'll  you  trade?"  he  asked.  That  was  the  cus- 
tomary challenge. 

"No  trade,"  answered  Terry,  promptly.  "Are  you 
going  clear  to  Pike's  Peak  with  a  wheel-barrow  ?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I'll  push  across.  I've  got  the  best  outfit 
of  anybody.  Only  my  own  mouth  to  feed,  and  don't 
need  to  look  for  grass.  When  I  make  a  dry  camp  I'm 
the  only  sufferer.  I  can  set  my  own  gait,  too — can 
cover  twenty  miles  a  day.  Well,  my  name's  McGrew. 
What's  your  name?  Where  you  from,  where'd  you 
get  that  buffalo,  who's  with  you,  and  what  trail  do  you 
calculate  on  taking?" 

He  seemed  to  be  a  very  cheerful,  plucky  man,  and 
Terry  replied  in  fashion  as  friendly. 

"My  name's  Terry  Richards.  My  partner's  Harry 
Revere — he's  the  same  as  a  brother.  We're  from  up 


DUKE  ON  A  RAMPAGE  37 

the  Big  Blue.  This  buffalo  is  half  cow ;  I  caught  him 
when  I  was  hunting  with  the  Delawares;  his  name  is 
Duke.  We're  thinking  of  taking  the  Republican  trail." 

"Oh,  you're  the  boys  from  the  Big  Blue,  are  you? 
I  might  have  guessed.  I've  heard  about  you." 

"Have  you  ?"  responded  Terry,  curious. 

"Yes.  Sol  Judy  rode  through  last  night  and  told 
me  to  keep  an  eye  out  for  you;  but  you  seem  able  to 
take  care  of  yourselves,  all  right,  judging  from  your 
little  set-to  with  that  whiskey  peddler.  I  only  wish 
the  shot  had  gone  lower,  but  the  chances  are  he'll 
empty  his  barrel  himself  before  he  gets  to  the  diggin's." 

"Which  trail  do  you  think  you'll  follow?"  asked 
Terry,  in  turn. 

The  wheel-barrow  man  scratched  his  head. 

"I  travel  light.  Believe  I'll  tackle  the  Smoky  Hill 
route,  straight  west  from  Riley.  It's  shortest.  Sol 
favors  the  Republican,  on  account  of  the  stages.  The 
majority  of  the  people  are  going  by  the  Smoky, 
though,  or  by  the  Santa  Fe  Trail — except  those  who 
are  already  striking  the  Republican  farther  to  the 
north  of  us.  The  California  and  Oregon  Trail,  up 
along  the  Platte,  of  course  will  be  the  main  trail." 

Harry  returned  with  a  sack  of  flour,  a  side  of  salt 
pork  or  sow-belly,  some  sugar  and  coffee  and  beans, 
matches,  a  hatchet,  and  a  few  other  articles.  His  arms 
were  filled,  and  Jenny  was  almost  covered,  much  to 
her  disgust.  She  hee-hawed  at  Duke,  and  Duke  stared 
wonderingly  through  his  matted  forelock. 

"Best  I  could  do,"  hailed  Harry.  "Never  saw  such 
a  mob.  The  stores  are  near  cleaned  out.  I  couldn't 


38      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

get  picks  or  spades  for  love  or  money,  but  I  reckon 
we  can  find  them  at  the  other  end,  or  maybe  at  Junc- 
tion City  beyond  Riley." 

"Well,  I'll  see  you  boys  at  the  diggin's,"  spoke  the 
wheel-barrow  man,  rising  and  grasping  the  handles  of 
his  barrow.  And  away  he  trudged,  to  skirt  the  pro- 
cession on  the  dust-enveloped  road. 

"He  says  he's  going  to  try  the  Smoky  Hill  trail," 
informed  Terry,  "because  it's  shorter." 

"It  may  do  for  him,"  answered  Harry.  "But  the 
more  haste  the  less  speed,  for  some  of  the  rest  of  us. 
I  believe  we'd  better  take  Sol's  advice,  and  break  our 
trail  across  to  the  Republican  until  the  stages  catch 
up  with  us." 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE  TRAIL  GROWS  LONESOME 

FORT  RILEY  was  fifteen  miles  west.  Progress  was 
slow,  on  the  crowded  road,  and  at  six  o'clock  the 
"Pike's  Peak  Limited"  was  glad  to  draw  aside  out  of 
the  dust  and  camp  for  the  night  near  to  a  wagon 
labeled  "Litening  Express."  The  owner  was  a 
heavy,  round-faced  German,  with  a  family  of  buxom 
wife,  and  of  six  girls  ranging  from  big  to  little.  He 
had  a  chicken  coop,  a  large  cook  stove  set  up  for  the 
evening  meal,  a  feather  mattress,  and  an  enormous  bale 
of  gunny-sacks  that  formed  a  seat  for  him  while  he 
watched  the  supper-getting. 

Harry  and  Terry  called  easy  greeting,  and  pretty 
soon  he  strolled  over. 

"Iss  dat  a  wild  boof 'lo  ?"  he  queried. 

"He  was  wild  once,  but  he's  tame  now." 

"You  are  de  boys  who  made  dot  man  loose  his 
whiskey,  mebbe." 

"I  guess  we  are,"  laughed  Harry.  It  was  astonish- 
ing, the  speed  with  which  news  traveled  among  the 
overlanders. 

"Dot  was  a  goot  t'ing.  How  far  you  say  to  dose 
gold  mines,  already?" 

39 


40       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"  'Bout  six  hundred  miles.  What  are  you  doing 
with  all  those  sacks?" 

"I  t'ink  I  poot  my  gold  in  dem,  an'  bring  it  back 
home." 

"That'll  be  quite  a  load,  won't  it?"  smiled  Harry. 
"You  know  gold  weighs  mighty  heavy." 

"I  haf  a  goot  team,"  replied  the  German,  not  at  all 
worried.  "I  fill  my  sacks,  an'  poot  dem  in  my  wagon, 
an'  I  come  home  in  time  for  winter,  an'  den  I  am  rich. 
I  will  be  one  of  de  richest  men  in  Illinois.  Mebbe  next 
year  I  do  it  over." 

"A  very  fine  plan,"  remarked  Harry,  gravely.  And 
the  German  returned  to  his  own  fire,  much  satisfied. 

"Jiminy!  Is  that  the  way?"  blurted  Terry,  sud- 
denly excited  again.  "We  ought  to've  brought  sacks." 

"We've  a  sack  of  oats  and  a  sack  of  flour,  and  I 
wouldn't  trade  'em  for  his  sacks  of  gold — yet,"  re- 
torted Harry. 

This  night  the  flickering  camp-fires  of  the  other 
gold-seekers  twinkled  all  along  the  road.  Fiddles  were 
tuned  up,  to  play  "Monkey  Musk,"  "My  Old  Kentucky 
Home,"  "Yankee  Doodle,"  and  other  tunes,  and  voices 
joined  in.  What  with  the  playing  and  singing,  the 
barking  of  dogs  and  the  noises  from  cattle,  sleep  was 
difficult  except  for  persons  as  tired  as  were  the  "boys 
from  the  Big  Blue." 

At  Fort  Riley,  which  was  a  new  army  post,  with 
massive  stone  buildings,  near  the  juncture  of  the 
Smoky  Hill  River  from  the  west  and  the  Republican 
River  from  the  north,  here  forming  the  Kansas  River, 
the  number  of  outfits  lessened.  Some  struck  north, 


THE  TRAIL  GROWS  LONESOME        41 

some  took  a  short  cut  south  for  the  Santa  Fe  Trail 
at  the  Arkansas  River. 

At  Junction  City,  beyond,  the  last  of  the  white  set- 
tlements, the  route  of  the  remaining  "Pike's  Peak  Pil- 
grims" again  split.  The  main  portion  of  the  travelers 
seemed  to  favor  the  new  trail  straight  westward,  up 
along  the  Smoky  Hill  River,  and  on  they  toiled,  to 
"get  rich  in  a  hurry."  It  was  the  common  report  that 
the  Smoky  Hill  River  could  be  followed  clear  to  the 
mountains,  but  this,  as  Harry  and  Terry  afterward 
heard,  proved  untrue. 

Another  portion  turned  off  southward,  for  the  Santa 
Fe  Trail  again.  A  good  government  road  led  down 
to  it.  Only  a  few  had  decided  upon  attempting  the 
newest  trail  of  all :  that  to  the  northwest,  for  the 
Republican  by  way  of  the  divide  between  the  Solomon 
River  on  the  left  and  the  Republican,  far  on  the  right. 

"We're  on  our  way,"  tersely  remarked  Harry,  as 
the  "Pike's  Peak  Limited"  left  Junction  City  for  the 
unknown.  "It's  liable  to  be  lonesome,  till  the  stages 
come." 

However,  several  wagons  had  preceded;  and  this 
first  night  camp  was  made  at  a  creek,  and  close  to  an- 
other party  also  camped. 

"Whar  you  boys  from?"  That  was  the  first  ques- 
tion. 

"Do  you  calkilate  to  get  thar  with  a  buffalo  and  a 
yaller  mule?"  That  was  the  second  question. 

"How'll  you  swap  dogs?"  That  was  the  third 
question. 

And — "Do  you  figger  on  diggin'  out  your  pound  of 


42       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

/ 
gold  a  day?"  was  the  fourth  question.     For  Eastern 

papers  had  asserted  that  this  was  the  regular  output 
of  the  Pike's  Peak  country:  a  pound  of  gold  a  day 
to  each  miner! 

"Half  a  pound  a  day  will  suit  us,"  responded  Harry. 

"Dearie  me!"  sighed  the  woman — a  nice,  motherly 
woman,  the  sight  of  whom  imbued  Terry  with  a  little 
sense  of  homesickness.  "We-all  count  on  a  pound  a 
day  for  one  hundred  days,  so  as  to  buy  a  farm  back 
in  Missouri.  Maybe,  if  the  children  and  I  dig,  we  can 
raise  it  to  two  pounds  a  day.  That'll  be  two  hundred 
pounds,  which  is  a  right  smart  amount  of  money." 

Junction  City  having  been  put  behind,  now  there 
was  not  even  a  cabin  to  be  seen.  The  high  plain 
between  the  valley  of  the  Solomon  on  the  south  and 
the  valley  of  the  Republican  on  the  north  stretched 
wide  and  unoccupied  save  by  the  squads  of  antelope, 
the  scant  trees  marking  the  creek  courses,  and  the  scat- 
tered white-canvased  wagons  ambling  on. 

It  was  a  go-as-you-please  march.  Outfits  wandered 
aside,  seeking  better  trail  or  better  camping-spot.  Oc- 
casionally one  had  broken  down,  and  was  halted  for 
repairs  or  rest.  Already  the  chosen  route  was  dotted 
with  cast-off  articles,  abandoned  to  lighten  the  loads. 
Bedsteads,  trunks,  mattresses,  chairs — and  Harry, 
pointing,  cried: 

"There's  the  'Lightning  Express'  stove !" 

For  the  German's  heavy  cook-stove  reposed,  by  it- 
self, on  the  prairie — and  odd  enough  it  looked,  too. 

"Wish  we'd  come  to  his  feather  tick,  some  evening," 
quoth  Terry. 


THE  TRAIL  GROWS  LONESOME        43 

Fuel,  even  buffalo  chips  (which  were  the  dried  de- 
posits left  by  the  buffalo,  and  burned  hotly)  were 
scarce.  The  "Limited"  aimed  to  camp  each  evening 
at  a  creek,  if  possible,  where  trees  might  be  found; 
but  most  of  the  dead  wood  had  been  used  by  other 
travelers,  or  by  Indians,  and  the  green  willow  and  ash 
smudged.  The  sage  and  greasewood  burned  well,  but 
burned  out  very  quickly. 

Duke  and  Jenny  footed  steadily,  making  their  twelve 
and  fifteen  miles  a  day,  up  and  down,  into  draws  and 
out  again,  and  the  "Limited"  seemed  to  be  gradually 
forging  ahead.  For  a  time,  each  night  camp  might 
be  established  (a  very  simple  matter)  in  company  with 
other  pilgrims;  and  the  spectacle  of  the  half-buffalo 
and  the  yellow  mule  pulling  in,  or  already  waiting,  in- 
variably excited  the  one  conversation. 

"How  far  to  Pike's  Peak,  strangers?" 

"Five  hundred  miles  or  so,  yet,  I  guess,"  would 
answer  Harry,  politely. 

"It's  an  awful  long  trail,  this  way,  ain't  it?  How 
far  to  the  Republican?'1 

"That  I  can't  say." 

Then  the  outfits  would  exchange  travel  notes  and 
personal  history. 

But  the  trail  was  petering  out,  as  Harry  expressed, 
more  and  more,  as  the  creeks  were  being  headed,  and 
anxious  gold-seekers  swerved  aside  looking  for  the 
Republican  Valley  and  better  water. 

About  noon  one  day  a  giant,  solitary  tree  waited 
before.  Several  wagon-tracks  led  for  it,  and  Duke 
and  Jenny  followed  of  their  own  accord.  It  was  a  big 


44       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

cottonwood,  with  half  the  bark  stripped  from  its  trunk 
by  lightning. 

"A  store  of  good  wood,  there,"  remarked  Harry. 
"Wonder  why  nobody's  chopped  it  down." 

"It's  got  a  sign  on  it,"  exclaimed  Terry.  "See?" 
And—"  Tike's  Peak  Post  Office,'  "  he  read,  aloud. 

The  sign  was  plain;  and  presently  the  reason  of  the 
sign  was  plain.  On  the  white  surface  of  the  peeled 
trunk  was  scrawled  a  number  of  names  and  other 
words. 

"Pike's  Peak  or  Bust!" 

Underneath:  "Busted!  No  wood,  no  water,  no 
gold.  Boston  Party." 

Also: 

"Keep  to  the  north." 

"Climb  this  tree  and  you  won't  see  anything." 

"The  jumping-off  place." 

"The  Peoria  wagon.     All  well." 

"Bound  for  the  Peak,  are  you?" 

"  'Litening  Express' !"  announced  Harry.  "Our 
German  friend  is  still  ahead." 

"  'Mr.  Ike  Chubbers' !"  spelled  out  Terry,  with  diffi- 
culty. "Aw,  shucks!  He's  this  far  already." 

"Yes,  and  there  he  went !"  laughed  Harry,  gleefully. 
"Those  are  sure  his  tracks.  He's  sampling  his  barrel." 

And  by  token  of  a  weaving,  wobbling,  sort  of 
drunken  pair  of  wagon-wheel  tracks  that  made  a  wide 
swing  for  the  north,  Pine  Knot  Ike  evidently  had  con- 
tinued in  a  new  direction. 

"He's  hunting  the  Republican,"  agreed  Terry. 
"Hope  we  don't  run  into  him." 


THE  TRAIL  GROWS  LONESOME        45 

"Nope/*  declared  Harry.  "Once  is  enough.  Hur- 
rah !"  he  uttered.  And  he  read :  "  'Stage  line  here. 
Sol  Judy/  " 

"That's  so."  And  Terry  peered.  "But  I  don't  see 
the  line.  Wonder  which  way  he  went.  There's  a 
double  arrow,  pointing  both  ways.  Wonder  if  it's  his. 
Wonder  when  he  wrote  here.  If  somebody  hadn't 
written  on  top  of  him  with  charcoal,  a  fellow  might 
tell." 

"Anyway,  we  won't  turn  off  yet,"  declared  Harry. 
"And  if  we  stand  here  'wondering'  we  won't  get  any- 
where at  all.  He  said  to  keep  northwest  by  the  high 
ground.  Maybe  that  wagon  track  ahead  is  the  Light- 
ning Express.  We'll  keep  going.  Gwan,  Duke !  Jenny  1" 

"Sort  of  wish  we'd  gone  by  the  Smoky  Hill,  don't 
you?"  ventured  Terry.  "We'd  had  more  company." 

"When  we  strike  the  Republican  we'll  find  plenty 
company,"  asserted  Harry.  "This  is  getting  rather 
lonesome,  I  must  confess." 

Not  a  moving  object  was  in  sight.  The  "Pike's  Peak 
Post  Office"  tree  stood  here  all  by  itself,  as  if  waiting 
for  the  stages.  And  yet,  Terry  well  knew  (unless  the 
sights  at  Manhattan  had  been  a  dream),  north  and 
south  of  them  thousands  of  people  were  trooping, 
trooping  westward  in  long,  human  rivers  of  creaking 
wagons. 

He  and  Harry  gave  a  last  look  behind  and  on  either 
side,  searching  the  brushy  expanse  for  other  outfits; 
then  they  left  the  friendly  cotton  wood  and  headed 
westward  again,  in  the  tracks  of  the  wagon  before. 
But  suddenly  Harry  stopped. 


46       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Pshaw !  We  forgot."  And  he  limped  hastily  back 
to  the  tree.  With  his  pencil  he  wrote  on  it.  Of  course ! 
Terry  returned  to  see. 

"The  Pike's  Peak  Limited.  April  20,  1859.  All 
well,"  announced  this  latest  inscription. 

"Somebody  will  read  it,"  quoth  Harry.  "It'll  show 
we  got  this  far  ourselves."  And  they  returned,  better 
satisfied,  to  the  cart. 

"There's  one  thing  sure,"  continued  Harry:  "The 
less  company  we  have,  the  more  fuel  and  forage  we'll 
find.  We're  getting  into  the  buffalo  country,  too. 
See?" 

For  the  surface  of  the  ground  was  cut  deeply  by 
narrow  trails  like  cattle  trails,  but  made  by  buffalo 
wending  probably  from  water  to  water.  Some  of  the 
trails  had  been  freshly  trodden. 

"That  means  we'll  have  to  look  sharp  after  Duke 
and  Jenny,"  warned  Terry. 

They  proceeded. 

"Well,  here  come  a  party,"  remarked  Harry.  "But 
they're  going  the  wrong  way." 

"Maybe  it's  some  of  the  stage  line  surveyors." 

The  party,  of  three  men,  two  of  them  horseback 
and  one  of  them  muleback,  drew  on  at  trot  and  rapid 
walk.  The  men  were  bearded,  roughly  dressed,  and 
well  armed  with  revolvers  and  rifles.  Meeting  the 
Pike's  Peak  Limited,  they  halted.  So  Harry  and 
Terry  halted. 

"Howdy?" 

"Howdy  yourselves.    Where  you  bound  ?" 

"For  the  land  of  gold,"  cheerfully  answered  Harry. 


THE  TRAIL  GROWS  LONESOME        47 

"Land  o'  nothin'!"  rebuffed  the  spokesman  of  the 
party.  "Turn  back,  turn  back,  'fore  you  starve  to 
death." 

"Why?    Are  you  from  the  Pike's  Peak  mines?" 

"We're  from  the  Cherry  Creek  diggin's,  young  fel- 
ler, but  we  didn't  see  any  mines  there  nor  nowheres 
else.  It's  all  a  fake,  and  we're  on  our  way  to  tell  the 
people  so  and  save  'em  their  bacon." 

"Aren't  you  bringing  any  gold?"  exclaimed  Terry. 
"Have  you  been  there  long?" 

"Long !  Gold !"  And  he  turned  his  pocket  inside 
out.  "That's  the  size  of  your  elephant.  We've  been 
there  since  last  November,  sonny,  and  the  gold  is  in 
your  eye.  That  Pike's  Peak  craze  is  the  biggest  hoax 
ever  invented.  It's  just  a  scheme  of  a  few  rascals  to 
sell  off  town  lots.  They  want  to  get  people  to  come 
out  yonder ;  and  gold  is  the  only  thing  that'll  persuade 
'em  into  the  barrenest,  porest  country  on  the  face  of 
the  'arth.  We've  been  thar,  so  we  know.  We  couldn't 
get  out,  in  the  winter ;  but  everybody's  leavin'  now,  to 
tell  the  folks  along  all  the  trails  to  face  back  and  go 
home." 

Terry  felt  a  sinking  of  the  heart.  Harry  also  seemed 
to  sober. 

"What  gold  is  it  that's  been  sent  out  of  there,  then?" 
he  asked. 

"Calif orny  gold !  Fetched  through  from  Calif orny. 
Never  was  taken  out  of  that  Pike's  Peak  country  at 
all.  Calif  orny  gold,  used  to  fool  the  people  with,  back 
in  the  States." 

"But  my  father  brought  home  two  hundred  dollars 


48      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

in  gold,  and  he  found  it  there  somewhere,  himself — 
near  Pike's  Peak,"  argued  Terry,  with  sudden  thought. 
"We've  already  got  a  mine!" 

"He  did,  did  he?  Waal,  if  he  did  he  was  lucky,  and 
he  was  luckier  to  get  out  with  it.  Thar  may  be  a  little 
gold — thar's  gold  to  be  washed  from  'most  any  moun- 
tain stream,  but  you  can't  eat  gold.  Yon  country's  a 
freezin'  country  and  a  starvation  country  and  an  In- 
jun country,  fit  for  neither  civilized  man  nor  beast. 
The  government'!!  need  to  step  in  and  forbid  people 
goin'  to  it.  The  hull  of  it  ain't  wuth  an  east  Kansas 
acre." 

"All  right.  Much  obliged,"  said  Harry.  "So 
long." 

"Coin' on?" 

"We'll  try  a  piece  farther,"  said  Harry.  "How's 
the  trail  ahead?  Did  you  see  any  stage  line  stakes?" 

"Stage  line  stakes!  What  you  dreamin'  of?  That 
stage  idee  is  another  hoax.  You'll  find  that  out,  to- 
gether with  a  few  other  things.  But  if  you're  set  on 
bein'  a  pair  of  young  fools,  go  on.  We  haven't  more 
time  to  waste  with  you." 

And  forthwith  the  party  spurred  on  its  eastward 
way. 

"Look  out  for  Injuns,"  called  one,  over  his  shoulder. 

"Humph !"  mused  Harry.  "Doesn't  sound  very  en- 
couraging, but  we  can't  believe  everything  we  hear,  for 
and  against,  both.  If  we  did,  we'd  never  know  what 
to  do.  A  fellow  has  to  act  on  his  own  hook,  some- 
times, until  he  can  judge  by  his  own  experience,  where 
he  can't  depend  on  the  experience  of  others.  That 


THE  TRAIL  GROWS  LONESOME        49 

party  may  have  secret  reasons  for  talking  so."  He 
eyed  Terry.  "Shall  we  go  on,  clear  through  ?  I  don't 
think  a  few  discouragements  will  turn  the  wheel-bar- 
row man  back." 

"I  don't,  either!"  declared  Terry,  bracing.  "Let's 
go  on." 

"Duke !  Jenny !  Hep  with  you !"  responded  Harry. 
"Hurrah  for  the  Pike's  Peak  Limited,  and  maybe  the 
Lightning  Express,  too !  But  no  German  with  a  wife 
and  six  girls  and  a  feather  bed  shall  beat  this  outfit. 
We're  liable  to  come  on  a  stake,  any  time.  And  the 
next  wrill  be  only  a  few  miles,  and  the  next  another 
few  miles,  and  at  that  rate  we'll  hit  the  Republican 
River  smack." 

But  to  Terry,  surveying  the  monotonous,  empty 
landscape,  single  stakes  planted  maybe  days'  journeys 
apart  seemed  rather  small  landmarks. 

In  mid-afternoon  they  did  indeed  overtake  the 
"Litening  Express."  It  was  halted  beside  a  small, 
stagnant  water-hole,  as  if  making  early  camp.  The 
wife  and  the  six  girls  were  sitting  around,  in  discon- 
solate manner,  and  the  German  himself  was  soaking 
his  naked  feet  in  the  water. 

"What's  the  matter  here  ?"  hailed  the  cheerful  Harry. 
"Broken  down?  You're  pointing  the  wrong  way." 

For  that  was  so.  The  one  wagon  track  beyond  had 
doubled,  and  the  wagon,  from  which  the  team  had 
been  unspanned,  was  heading  east  instead  of  west. 

"Yah,"  stolidly  answered  the  German.  "We  go 
back.  Dere  iss  no  elephant.  Now  we  go  back  again 
home  quick.  We  haf  met  some  men  who  haf  told  us." 


50      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  uttered  Harry.  "You're  half-way. 
Better  go  the  rest  of  the  way  and  see  for  yourself. 
You  mustn't  let  a  few  wild  rumors  stop  you." 

"Don't  you  intend  to  fill  your  sacks  ?"  added  Terry. 

"Dere  iss  no  gold,  so  dey  say;  an'  notting  else," 
insisted  the  German. 

"Once  you  believed  there  was,  and  now  you  believe 
there  isn't,"  laughed  Harry.  "You  might  as  well  be- 
lieve the  first  as  the  second,  as  far  as  you  know." 

"And  there  is  gold,  because  we've  got  a  mine,"  en- 
couraged Terry. 

"Nein."  And  the  German  shook  his  head.  "I  set 
out  to  fill  my  sacks;  dose  men  say  I  cannot  fill  dem. 
So  I  go  home.  I  t'ink  you  better  go  home,  too.  You 
camp  here  with  us,  an'  I  fix  my  feet,  an'  we  haf  a 
goot  supper,  an'  den  in  mornin'  we  travel  togedder." 

"Nope,  we're  bound  through,"  replied  Harry.  "This 
is  no  time  of  day  for  us  to  camp."  And  Terry  was 
relieved  to  hear  him  say  so,  for  the  stagnant  pool,  with 
the  German's  feet  in  it,  did  not  look  very  inviting. 
"What  did  you  find  ahead?" 

"Notting  an'  nobody,"  grumbled  the  German.  "All 
joost  like  dis."  And  he  swept  his  arm  around  to  indi- 
cate the  bare  stretch  of  plains.  "Purty  soon  you  see 
where  I  turn  to  go  home,  an'  den  you  be  all  by  your- 
self. I  do  not  like  it.  I  like  peoples.  So  I  go  home." 

"You  didn't  see  any  stake,  did  you?"  queried  Terry. 

"What  stake?" 

"To  mark  the  stage  line." 

"What  for  would  dey  poot  any  stage  line  where  dey 
ain't  peoples  ?"  demanded  the  German. 


THE  TRAIL  GROWS  LONESOME        51 

"All  right;  how'll  you  sell  your  mining  tools?"  asked 
Harry,  with  alert  mind.  "You've  no  use  for  them." 

"Mebbe  I  dig  garden.  But  I  sell  dem  to  you  for 
one  dollar  an'  half — de  whole  lot." 

"Done!"  cried  Harry.  "And  how  about  those 
sacks  ?" 

"Dey  iss  goot  potato  sacks.  But  what  will  you  gif 
me  for  dose  sacks  ?" 

"Four  bits." 

"Well,  I  guess  you  take  dem.  You  t'ink  to  poot 
potatoes  in  dem  ?  Nein,  nein ;  you  iss  crazy.  It  iss  as 
crazy  as  to  t'ink  to  poot  gold  in  dem." 

When  they  left  the  German,  who  had  resumed  the 
soaking  of  his  sore  feet  in  the  general  pool,  they  were 
possessed  of  two  new  picks,  two  new  spades,  a  cask 
of  sauerkraut,  and  the  bale  of  sacks. 

"What'll  we  ever  do  with  the  sacks?"  inquired 
Terry. 

Harry  scratched  his  long  nose. 

"Blamed  if  I  know,  yet,"  he  admitted.  "But  you 
never  can  tell." 

In  about  an  hour  they  passed  the  place  where  the 
"Litening  Express"  had  turned  about.  Now  there  was 
no  trail  at  all,  except  the  endless  buffalo  trails.  Some- 
where they  had  lost  even  the  hoof -prints  of  the  three 
horsemen. 

They  made  late  and  solitary  evening  camp  on  the 
farther  side  of  a  deep  creek  bed,  whose  banks  had 
been  broken  down  by  crossing  buffalo.  There  was  so 
little  water  that  Terry  had  to  dig  a  hole,  in  order  to 
get  a  pailful  for  supper  and  breakfast.  But  in  wander- 


52       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

ing  about  searching  for  buffalo  chips  in  the  gloaming, 
he  shouted  gladly : 

"Here's  a  stake — a  new  one!  It  says:  'Station 
ii'!" 

Harry  limped  to  inspect. 

"Bully!"  he  enthused.  "We  don't  care  where  the 
other  ten  are.  This  shows  we're  on  the  right  road. 
Well,  Mr.  Station  Master,  I  want  supper  and  beds 
for  two,  and  a  guide  to  the  next  station.  What's  the 
tariff,  and  what'll  you  trade  for  sauerkraut  and  gunny- 
sacks?.  But  I  wish  your  company' d  make  your  sta- 
tions a  little  bigger,  for  this. is  a  powerful  big  coun- 
try." 

However,  tiny  as  it  was,  the  stake  appealed  as  a 
human  token.  There  were  signs,  also,  of  an  old  camp, 
near  the  creek;  and  from  the  stake  hoof-marks  led 
away  westward,  as  if  to  the  next  stake. 


CHAPTER   V 

TOUGH  LUCK  FOR  THE  LIMITED 

"I  SUPPOSE,"  reflectively  drawled  Harry,  in  the 
morning  at  breakfast,  "that  by  the  looks  of  things 
we're  in  for  a  dry  march  or  two  before  we  strike  the 
creeks  on  the  other  side.  Anyway,  we'd  better  fill  the 
water  keg,  sure.  And  I  opine  you're  to  go  ahead,  to 
keep  those  horse  tracks,  while  I  follow  with  the  cart." 

"Pike's  Peak  or  Bust,"  responded  Terry. 

They  started  early,  to  push  on  at  best  speed.  Duke 
grunted,  Jenny  sighed,  the  cart  creaked,  Harry  whis- 
tled, Shep  scouted  before  and  on  either  hand,  sniffing 
at  the  buffalo  trails  and  charging  the  prairie  dogs  and 
little  brown  birds,  and  Terry,  trudging  in  the  advance, 
faithfully  kept  to  the  hoof-prints. 

Perhaps  the  Pike's  Peak  pilgrims  who  had  turned 
off  had  been  wise,  for  the  water  certainly  was  failing. 
Now  there  were  only  a  few  shallow  washes,  and  these 
were  dry  as  a  bone,  showing  that  the  top  of  the  low 
prairie  divide  was  being  crossed.  Still,  with  a  full 
water  keg,  which  would  give  several  good  drinks  to  all, 
and  with  the  horse  tracks  to  follow,  and  the  Republican 
side  of  the  divide  somewhere  ahead,  there  was  no  cause 
for  worry. 

53 


54      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

Duke  and  Jenny  stepped  valiantly.  Terry  felt  a 
pride  in  the  thought  that  the  Pike's  Peak  Limited  was 
the  first  overland  outfit  on  the  new  stage  trail.  He 
wondered  if  they  would  beat  the  wheel-barrow  man  in 
to  the  diggings.  Maybe  they  would!  He  wondered 
when  they  would  sight  the  mountains.  Tomorrow? 
No,  scarcely  tomorrow.  The  horizon  ahead  was  a 
complete  half -circle,  broken  by  never  an  up-lift.  In 
fact,  'twas  hard  to  believe  that  any  mountains  at  all 
lay  in  that  direction. 

At  noon  Harry  guessed  that  they  had  covered  ten 
miles,  and  he  figured  on  covering  another  ten  miles 
before  evening  camp.  He  was  anxious  to  reach  the 
next  water.  The  cart  was  not  much  of  a  drag,  and 
both  Duke  and  Jenny  were  strong.  So  at  the  noon 
camp  everybody  had  a  little  drink,  and  Duke  and 
Jenny  had  a  little  grass,  and  a  little  doze.  Shep 
snored.  A  good  dog,  Shep. 

"It's  queer  how  little  game  we've  seen,  except  meas- 
ley  rabbits,"  observed  Harry,  that  evening.  "Only 
some  antelope,  and  one  old  buffalo  bull  at  a  distance." 

"And  no  Indians,  either,"  added  Terry. 

"Well,  expect  the  Indians  are  with  the  buffalo  or 
else  begging  along  the  main  trails,"  reasoned  Harry. 
"But  we'd  better  hobble  both  animals  short,  anyway, 
so  they  won't  stray  off  looking  for  water." 

The  sun  had  set  gloriously  in  a  clear  and  golden 
west.  While  camp  was  being  located  in  the  open,  the 
broad  expanse  of  rolling  plain  quickly  empurpled ;  and 
in  the  twilight  Terry  staked  out  Duke,  by  a  rope  and 
a  strap  around  his  fore-leg,  and  Jenny  by  a  rope  around 


TOUGH  LUCK  FOR  THE  LIMITED       55 

her  neck.  When  supper  was  finished,  and  the  dishes 
scoured  with  twigs  to  save  the  water,  the  first  stars 
had  appeared  in  the  sky. 

Just  before  closing  his  eyes  to  sleep,  Terry  from  his 
buffalo  robe  gazed  up  and  sighed  contentedly.  It  was 
a  fine  night. 

The  coyotes  and  the  larger  wolves  seemed  unusually 
busy.  Their  yaps  and  howls  sounded  frequently.  Sev- 
eral times  during  the  night  Terry  was  conscious  that 
Shep  growled,  and  that  Duke  and  Jenny  were  uneasy ; 
he  heard  also  a  low  rumble,  as  of  distant  thunder,  but 
he  was  too  sleepy  to  sit  up  and  look  about.  When  he 
did  unclose  his  eyes,  to  blink  for  a  moment,  he  saw 
that  the  stars  were  still  vivid  in  the  blue-black  sky 
overhead. 

This  was  the  last  thought — and  next  he  awakened 
with  a  start,  to  pink  dawn  and  Harry's  ringing  shout : 

"Buffalo !     Great  Scott !    Look  at  the  buffalo !" 

Harry  was  up,  standing  near  the  cart  and  gazing  to 
•the  east.  Up  sprang  Terry,  too,  and  gazed.  The 
rumble  was  distinct.  A  miracle  had  occurred  between 
darkness  and  dawn — all  the  plain  to  the  east  was  black 
with  a  living  mass  which  had  flowed  upon  it  during  the 
night. 

Buffalo! 

"I  should  say!"  gasped  Terry. 

"Must  be  ten  thousand  of  them,"  called  Harry. 

"Look  out  for  Jenny  and  Duke !" 

Jenny  was  snorting,  as  the  morning  breeze  bore  the 
reek  of  the  vast  herd  to  her  nostrils.  No,  mules  did 
not  like  buffalo.  Duke's  head  was  high,  as  he  stared. 


56      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

Harry  had  partially  dressed;  now  he  hurried  to  quiet 
the  team.  Terry  drew  on  his  trousers  and  boots  and 
hastened  after. 

The  buffalo  were  grazing,  and  seemed  to  be  drifting 
slowly  this  way.  The  hither  fringe  was  not  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  from  the  camp.  Bulls  bellowed  and  pawed 
and  rolled,  calves  gamboled  and  breakfasted,  and 
around  the  mass  prowled  great  gray  buffalo  wolves, 
waiting  their  chances.  All  was  wondrously  clear  in 
the  first  rays  of  the  rising  sun. 

Harry  led  the  restive  Jenny  to  the  wagon  and  tied 
her  short. 

"I  think  we'd  better  get  right  out  of  here,"  he  an- 
nounced, as  he  helped  Terry  and  Shep  drive  the  equally 
restive  Duke  in.  "The  coast  ahead  is  clear.  But  if 
we  wait  for  breakfast  or  anything,  that  herd's  liable 
to  be  on  top  of  us." 

"Let's  hustle,  then,"  agreed  Terry.  "They're  com- 
ing this  way,  sure.  I  heard  'em,  in  the  night,  but  I 
didn't  know  what  it  was." 

"Same  here,"  confessed  Harry,  as  they  hustled  to 
put  Duke  and  Jenny  to  the  cart,  and  pitch  the  camp 
stuff  inside.  "Funny  where  such  a  mob  rose  from. 
Reckon  something  set  'em  traveling." 

Jenny  was  quite  ready  to  leave,  but  Duke  was  more 
reluctant.  However,  on  started  the  Pike's  Peak 
Limited  again. 

"We'll  stop  for  breakfast  when  we're  at  a  safer  dis- 
tance," quoth  Harry.  "Hope  we  reach  water  tonight." 

Yes,  the  great  herd  was  perceptibly  nearer  when 
they  pulled  out.  But  at  the  rate  it  was  moving  it 


TOUGH  LUCK  FOR  THE  LIMITED        57 

could  be  left  behind  while  it  peacefully  grazed.  The 
thin  brush  was  a-sparkle  with  scant  dew,  soon  dried 
by  the  bright  sun.  The  hoof -prints  of  the  second 
horseman  party  showed  plainly  in  the  sod  and  sandy 
gravel.  Terry  acted  as  guide,  Harry,  following  with 
the  cart,  urged  on  Duke  and  Jenny.  J 

"Reckon  we'll  come  to  another  stake  today,"  called 
back  Terry. 

"Reckon  we  will,"  answered  Harry. 

The  rumble  of  the  herd  gradually  died.  The  sun 
mounted  higher,  and  Terry  was  thinking  upon  break- 
fast, when  a  sudden  hail  from  Harry  halted  him. 

"Wait!    Listen!" 

Harry  had  stopped. 

"Whoa!"  And  Duke  and  Jenny  stopped,  not  at  all 
unwillingly. 

Terry  stopped,  poised.  Another  dull  rumble !  More 
buffalo?  Nothing  was  in  sight  before  or  on  either 
hand.  The  rumble  came  from  behind — and  yonder, 
against  the  sun,  welled  a  cloud  of  dust. 

"They've  stampeded !"  he  cried. 

"Sounds  like  it.  And  the  question  is,  which  way 
are  they  going?" 

That  was  speedily  answered. 

"Gee  whillikens !"  exclaimed  Terry.  "They're  com- 
ing this  way !" 

A  swell  of  the  prairie  had  concealed  all  save  the 
dust ;  but  now  atop  the  swell  had  appeared  black  dots, 
succeeded  instantly  by  a  long  wave  of  solid  black,  as 
over  and  down  surged  the  whole  herd,  covering  the 
back  trail  and  pouring  on  with  astonishing,  not  to  say 


58      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

alarming  rapidity.  The  flanks  extended  widely;  there 
was  no  time  for  escaping  to  one  side  or  the  other.  In 
fact,  the  cart  seemed  to  be  right  in  the  middle  of  the 
broad  path. 

Harry  acted  quickly. 

"Watch  the  animals !"  he  ordered.  "I'll  tend  to  this 
end.  Don't  lose  your  head,  Terry.  We  can  split  'em." 

He  limped  to  the  rear  of  the  wagon.  Terry  ran 
back  to  Duke — and  saw  that  Harry  had  jerked  the 
shot-gun  from  where  it  was  stowed,  and  was  posted 
out  behind  the  wagon.  The  crowded  ranks  of  the  buf- 
falo were  so  close  that  the  earth  trembled.  Jenny 
trembled,  also,  and  Duke  was  pawing  and  staring  side- 
ways. Shep,  barking  wildly,  took  refuge  underneath 
the  wagon. 

Terry  seized  the  whip,  dropped  by  Harry,  and 
threatened  Duke  from  before. 

"Steady,  Duke!    Jenny!    Whoa!    Whoa,  now!" 

"Steady,  everybody!"  yelled  Harry,  above  the  up- 
roar. The  stampeding  herd  was  upon  them.  Three 
or  four  of  the  fleetest  cows  raced  past,  galloping,  heads 
low,  little  tails  cocked,  with  the  peculiar  rolling  mo- 
tion of  the  running  buffalo ;  and  close  after  pressed  the 
whole  mass — a  crowded  frontage  of  thundering  hoofs, 
shaggy  heads,  bulging  eyes,  lolling  tongues,  huge  shoul- 
ders lunging,  lion-like  manes  tossing,  and  slim,  smooth 
hind-quarters  bobbing  up  and  down.  And  back  from 
the  front  rank,  these  were  all  mixed  together — solid! 

Terry's    heart    beat    wildly.      An    instant    more, 

and !    Why,  the  cart  outfit  was  only  a  speck  in 

the  path  of  this  darkly  rushing  avalanche  which  would 


TOUGH  LUCK  FOR  THE  LIMITED       59 

swallow  them  all  in  a  jiffy  and  never  know;  would 
mash  them  flat! 

He  caught  his  breath,  while  trying  to  quiet  Duke  and 
Jenny.  There  was  no  use  in  running  away — Harry 
stood  braced — how  small  he  looked — but  he  was  plucky 
— and  now  he  actually  ran  forward,  a  few  steps,  right 
against  the  onward  plunging  rank — waved  his  hat — 
shouted — and  bang !  bang !  warned  the  shot-gun,  belch- 
ing its  challenge  into  the  buffalos'  faces. 

"Duke!  Jenny!  Whoa!"  shrieked  Terry,  desper- 
ately— and  now  gladly,  for  another  miracle  had  oc- 
curred. The  foremost  buffalo,  as  if  suddenly  aware 
of  the  cart,  and  the  human  beings,  had  veered  aside, 
to  right  and  left,  avoiding  Harry,  and  the  cart,  and 
all ;  and  following  their  leaders,  to  right  and  left  were 
veering  the  others,  here  at  the  middle,  so  that  the 
divided  herd  began  to  stream  past  in  a  heaving,  jostling 
current,  on  either  hand.  It  had  been  split,  by  Harry ; 
and  the  Pike's  Peak  Limited  was  an  island. 

Harry  continued  to  yell  and  wave  his  hat  and  arms. 
He  stood  there  fearlessly,  at  the  split.  At  first  the 
split  was  narrow — Terry  almost  could  touch  the  shaggy 
forms  as  they  lurched  by.  He  started  to  yell  and  wave, 
also,  and  help  widen  the  split — for  it  did  widen — but 
speedily  he  had  to  quit.  Duke  and  Jenny  were  nerv- 
ous enough  already.  Jenny  snorted,  reared;  Duke 
shook  his  head  and  strained  from  side  to  side. 

"Duke!     Whoa!     Steady,  boy!     Back,  Jenny !" 

The  pounding  of  the  incessant  hoofs  was  like  the 
long-roll  of  a  great  drum.  Thick  rose  the  dust,  but 
not  so  much  from  the  earth  as  from  the  big  hairy 


60      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

bodies,  to  which  had  clung  dried  dirt.  Bulls,  cows,  and 
calves ;  cows,  calves,  and  bulls — forming  a  stifling,  liv- 
ing lane  of  constant  motion. 

Terry  scarcely  could  hear  himself. 

"Duke!  Whoa,  boy!  Steady,  there  I  Whoa,  Jenny!" 

Would  the  herd  never  be  past  ?  Yes,  yonder  it  was 
thinning — and  farther  beyond,  the  stragglers  were  in 
sight.  Good ! 

"Duke !  Be  careful,  Duke !"  He  was  growing  more 
unmanageable.  Terry  danced  before  him,  and  threat- 
ened. "Whoa Jenny!  Whoa,  Duke!"  And— "Duke! 
Duke!  DUKE!  Whoa-oa!  DUKE!"  But  no  use; 
with  shake  of  angry  head  and  flirt  of  wickedly  cocked 
tail  Duke  bolted ;  dragged  Jenny  and  the  cart  together, 
knocked  Terry  sprawling — Terry  clutched  vainly  at  the 
cart,  was  dragged,  himself,  a  few  feet,  staggered  up, 
hatless,  stumbled  on  the  frightened  Shep,  and  gazed 
after  with  a  wail:  "Oh,  jiminy!" 

They  were  away,  in  the  dusty  wake  of  the  flying 
herd :  Duke  galloping,  Jenny  galloping,  the  cart 
bounding. 

Harry  had  turned  just  in  time  to  witness.  His 
sweat-streaked  face  gaped,  amazed,  perplexed,  and 
hardened  into  sudden  resolution  as  whirling  he  sprang 
forward.  But  Terry  was  as  quick.  Grabbing  up  his 
hat  as  he  went,  he  launched  in  the  pursuit.  Out-strip- 
ping him,  Shep  ran  furiously,  barking,  and  Harry  kept 
close  behind. 

The  cart  was  plainly  visible,  in  an  open  place  among 
the  stragglers  at  the  rear  of  the  herd.  Duke  lumbered, 
Jenny  lumbered,  the  cart  lumbered,  and  holding  to  the 


TOUGH  LUCK  FOR  THE  LIMITED       6l 

chase  lumbered  in  their  heavy  boots  Terry  and  Harry. 

Soon  it  was  evident  that  a  harnessed  buffalo  was  no 
match  for  free  buffalo.  Duke's  outfit  was  being  left; 
buffalo  after  buffalo  passed  it,  until  presently  Duke 
and  Jenny  and  the  cart  were  traveling  alone.  But 
they  kept  going,  on  a  stampede  of  their  own,  imitating 
the  insensate  herd. 

"Darn  that  Duke !"  panted  Terry.  And  he  shouted : 
"Sic',  Shep !  Turn  'em !  Sic',  sic' !  Catch  'em,  boy !" 

Shep  darted  gaily.  He  fairly  tore  through  the 
brush.  Now  he  had  reached  the  cart — and  now  he  was 
barking  alongside  the  crazy  team.  Would  he  do  it? 
Could  he  do  it  ?  Yes,  he  was  trying  to  head  them.  He 
had  gained  the  front;  yapping,  darting,  snapping,  he 
was  crossing  back  and  forth  before  Duke's  nose.  Down 
lower  dropped  Duke's  burly  head;  he  charged;  Shep 
dodged,  and  returned. 

The  cart  swung  and  tilted,  and  out  was  bounced 
the  cask  of  sauerkraut. 

"Hurrah!"  cheered  Harry. 

On  at  a  tangent  lumbered  Duke  and  Jenny — Shep 
was  bothering  them  seriously — and  out  bounced  the 
water  keg. 

"Great  Scott !"  gasped  Harry.  "Don't  let's  lose  that 
keg!" 

"Shep'll  stop  'em !  Shep'll  stop  'em !"  panted  Terry. 
"Hurrah!"  His  throat  was  tight,  his  heart  thumped 
tremendously,  his  legs  were  like  lead,  but  he  had  hopes. 

Shep  knew  his  business  of  turning  cattle.  Now 
wherever  the  enraged  and  frantic  Duke  headed,  the 
pesky,  yapping,  snapping  dog  was  under  his  nose. 


62       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

Jenny  was  growing  tired  of  being  dragged  hither- 
thither;  she  detested  dogs,  and  she  despised  buffalo, 
tame  or  wild.  Duke,  at  his  wits'  end,  and  tired  also, 
stopped  short ;  she  stopped ;  Duke  pawed  and  shook  his 
locks  and  rumbled,  keen  yet  for  just  one  good  chance 
at  his  tormentor — and  Shep,  sitting  down,  with  tongue 
dripping,  held  the  way. 

There  they  were  when,  breathless,  Terry  and  Harry 
arrived,  to  scold  the  runaways,  to  praise  Shep,  and  to 
take  stock  of  damages. 

"Not  a  thing  broken,  is  there?'5  pronounced  Harry, 
still  panting,  after  the  hasty  survey. 

And  that  appeared  to  be  the  case.  Of  course,  the 
stuff  inside  the  cart  was  pretty  well  jumbled ;  but  the 
frame  and  wheels  seemed  all  right,  and  the  harness 
was  whole,  and  only  Duke  and  Jenny  themselves  were 
the  worse  for  wear.  Their  drooping  heads  and  heaving 
flanks  proclaimed  that  they  had  run  quite  far  enough. 

So,  thought  Terry,  had  he  and  Harry.  He  felt  as 
though  he  had  run  a  mile  or  more.  Whew ! 

"All's  well  that  ends  well,"  asserted  Harry,  regain- 
ing his  spirits.  Nothing  downed  Harry.  "Now,  first 
thing  to  do  is  to  get  that  keg  of  water.  But  I  don't 
suppose  we'll  ever  find  the  trail.  The  buffalo  must 
have  tramped  it  out — and  we're  away  off  the  track, 
anyway.  Shucks !" 

"Where  is  the  keg?"  asked  Terry,  peering. 

"There  it  is — that  first  dot.  See  ?  The  gunny  sacks 
are  beyond,  and  the  sauerkraut  last.  Let's  turn  the 
critters  about.  You  bring  them  on  and  I'll  go  ahead. 
Maybe  something  else  was  jounced  out." 


TOUGH  LUCK  FOR  THE  LIMITED       63 

Duke  and  Jenny  were  turned,  after  considerable 
shouting  and  shoving;  Harry  set  off  on  a  straight  line 
for  the  keg,  and  Terry  followed  more  slowly  with  the 
team  and  cart.  It  did  seem  rather  tough  luck  that 
they  had  lost  the  horsemen's  trail  to  the  next  stake; 
now  they'd  simply  have  to  guess  at  direction,  unless 
they  happened  to  be  near  the  stage  line  and  a  stage 
came. 

Golly,  but  he  was  thirsty!  His  mouth  was  glued. 
He  hoped  that  they  all — that  is,  Harry  and  he  and 
Shep — would  get  a  good  drink  from  that  keg.  As 
for  Duke  and  Jenny,  they  did  not  deserve  a  drink, 
although  doubtless  they  needed  one.  And  what  about 
something  to  eat? 

Harry  was  waiting  at  the  keg,  a  queer  look  on  his 
perspiring,  grimy  face.  He  had  set  the  keg  on  end. 

"Thirsty?"  he  queried. 

"Thirsty' s  no  name  for  it,"  panted  Terry. 

"So  am  I.  But  we'll  have  to  go  easy.  The  bung 
flew  out  of  the  keg,  and  half  the  water's  followed.  I 
found  the  bung,  but  I  can't  find  the  water." 

Harry  evidently  tried  to  speak  lightly,  but  Terry 
read  concern  in  his  tone  and  face  both. 

"Can  you  stand  a  short  drink?"  encouraged  Harry. 
"There'll  be  plenty  on  ahead  somewhere." 

"Sure,"  declared  Terry,  manfully,  feeling  thirstier 
than  ever.  "We've  got  a  little,  haven't  we?  And  if 
we  strike  that  trail  maybe  it'll  lead  us  to  a  creek." 

So  they  hoisted  in  the  keg,  tightly  stoppered  again 
(but  it  was  suspiciously  light),  and  Harry  trudged 
ahead  once  more,  to  find  the  gunny  sacks. 


64       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"We'll  never  mind  the  sauerkraut,"  he  called  back. 
"Let  it  stay.  The  lighter  we  travel,  the  better,  from 
here  to  water." 

Shep  went  with  him.  They  dipped  into  a  shallow, 
narrow  draw;  Terry  heard  Shep  barking,  and  then 
Harry  hallooing.  And  when,  urging  Duke  and  Jenny, 
he  could  see  into  the  draw,  Harry  was  there,  at  one 
side,  beckoning  and  shouting  to  him,  and  at  the  same 
time  examining  some  object  on  the  ground. 

"Haw,  Duke !  Haw !  Hep  with  you !"  Along  the 
shallow  draw  they  toiled,  for  he  was  afraid  to  leave 
the  team. 

Harry  was  kneeling,  Shep  was  nosing  and  busily 
waving  his  tail.  They  were  engaged  over  that  object. 
It  could  not  be  the  gunny  sacks.  The  gunny  sacks 
had  not  rolled  so  far  from  the  back  trail. 

"Whoa-oa,  Duke,  Jenny !  Stand,  now !"  And  Terry 
trudged  a  few  steps  to  join  the  investigation.  He 
stopped  short,  astounded. 

Harry  and  Shep  had  found  a  man — no,  looked  more 
like  a  boy;  lying  crumpled  and  motionless  in  a  little 
saucer-shaped  hollow  amidst  the  brush. 

"Say !    Is  he  dead  ?"  gasped  Terry. 

"No.  Hasn't  even  been  stepped  on,  I  think,"  an- 
swered Harry.  "But  he  needs  food  and  water  mighty 
bad — 'specially  water.  Open  the  keg,  quick." 


"TERRY    FLEW    TO    THE    CART     .     .     .     FLEW    BACK    AGAIN    WITH    THE 
PRECIOUS    FLUID" 


CHAPTER   VI 

JUST  IN  TIME 

TERRY  flew  to  the  cart,  wrestled  with  the  keg  until 
he  might  pour  from  it,  and  lavishly  plashing  a  tin  cup 
full,  even  to  running  over,  flew  back  again. 

Harry  sopped  his  handkerchief  and  mopped  the  up- 
turned face  of  the  cast-away;  trickled  a  few  drops, 
now  and  then,  in  between  the  cracked,  parted  lips ;  wet 
the  thin  wrists.  Skin  and  lips  seemed  to  absorb  water 
like  a  dry  sponge. 

The  unconscious  refugee  was  small  and  exceedingly 
thin;  he  could  not  be  over  eighteen  or  nineteen  at  the 
most.  He  wore  coarse  shoes  and  trousers,  and  a  flan- 
nel shirt  open  at  the  chest.  Harry  wet  the  white  chest. 
Terry  and  Shep  watched  expectantly. 

"He  must  be  a  stray  from  some  pilgrim  outfit,'* 
remarked  Harry.  "Got  lost.  Expect  he  tried  to  strike 
across  country  by  himself,  and  had  no  food  or  water. 
Queer  that  the  buffalo  didn't  harm  him.  They  went 
right  over  him." 

And  that  was  so.  All  the  brush,  save  in  this  oasis, 
was  crushed,  and  the  ground  was  stamped  and  fur- 
rowed by  the  myriad  plunging  hoofs.  But  somehow 
they  had  leaped  the  little  hollow,  or  avoided  it. 

65 


66      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Did  you  find  him?"  asked  Terry. 

"No ;  Shep  found  him.  More  water,  please."  And 
Harry  passed  up  the  emptied  cup. 

When  Terry  returned  with  it  rilled  again,  a  change 
had  occurred  in  their  patient.  His  eyes  were  fluttering, 
and  he  was  feebly  moving  his  bony  hands.  He  greed- 
ily gulped  for  the  water,  and  even  tried  to  seize  the 
cup  when  Harry  removed  it.  Some  of  the  water  flowed 
over  his  face,  but  some  of  it  was  swallowed. 

Terry  hated  to  see  any  of  it  wasted  on  the  ground. 
He  was  thirsty  himself ;  so  were  they  all — Duke  bawled 
hoarsely  and  Jenny  essayed  to  beg,  smelling  water  and 
asking  for  it. 

The  patient  appeared  to  be  attempting  to  speak — 
signed  for  more,  more. 

"A  little  at  a  time,  a  little  at  a  time/'  repeated  Harry. 
"You're  all  right.  You're  among  friends,  but  you 
mustn't  drink  too  much  at  once.  Might  make  you 
sick.  Another  swallow  ?  There  you  are." 

The  second  cup  was  emptied.  The  patient  was  be- 
ginning to  mutter  thickly  and  seemed  to  be  seeing — • 
signed  for  more,  more.  A  slight  color  tinged  his 
smooth  sunken  cheeks. 

"He's  coming  round,"  declared  Harry.  "Next 
thing  is  to  get  him  out  of  this  sun  and  into  the  cart. 
We  can't  stay  here.  Whew,  this  sun  is  hot !  Watch 
him  and  shade  him  as  much  as  you  can,  will  you,  while 
I  fix  things?" 

Having  fumbled  inside  the  cart,  away  limped  Harry, 
and  returned  lugging  the  bale  of  gunny  sacks.  He  cut 
the  binding  with  his  knife,  and  opened  the  bale — 


JUST  IN  TIME  67 

spread  the  sacks  in  the  cart,  for  a  bed,  and  leaping  out 
with  a  buffalo  robe,  brought  it  to  the  hollow. 

"Now  let's  put  him  on  this  and  hoist  him  aboard." 

That  was  done,  Terry  tugging  from  inside  the  cart 
and  Harry  lifting  from  outside.  The  sacks  and  the 
buffalo  robe  made  a  very  comfortable,  snug  bed,  and 
wedged  the  sides  so  as  to  hold  the  patient  securely. 

"Water,"  feebly  implored  a  voice. 

"One  cup  full,  this  time,"  granted  Harry.  "Drink 
slowly — slowly,  now." 

The  boy  clutched  the  cup  with  both  hands,  and 
Harry  with  difficulty  prevented  his  draining  it  at  a 
gulp.  But  having  drained  it,  he  sank  back  with  a  sigh. 

"Ho,  hum!"  And  Harry  paused,  to  sigh  too,  and 
wipe  his  streaming  face  with  his  handkerchief.  Duke 
and  Jenny  had  their  heads  turned,  expectantly;  Shep 
was  sitting,  his  tongue  out,  his  eyes  eager,  likewise 
demanding  a  share  from  the  keg.  "I  suppose  we'll 
all  have  a  small  drink  apiece,  but  we've  got  another 
mouth  to  supply." 

"We  won't  have  enough,  will  we?"  anxiously  asked 
Terry.  "We  hardly  had  enough  before." 

This  did  loom  as  tough  luck:  to  have  been  limited 
in  water  anyway,  then  to  have  lost  the  trail,  and  to 
have  lost  part  of  the  water,  and  to  have  used  half  of 
the  valuable  day  in  getting  nowhere  in  particular,  but 
in  being  made  thirstier  than  ever,  and  now  to  have 
added  still  another  thirsty  mouth  to  the  company.  Of 
course 

"Never  mind,"  asserted  Harry.  "Everything's  all 
right.  Don't  you  see — if  the  stampede  hadn't  come 


68       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

Duke  and  Jenny  wouldn't  have  run,  and  if  they  hadn't 
run,  we  might  not  have  lost  the  trail,  and  if  the  things 
hadn't  bounced  out  we  wouldn't  have  back-tracked  to 
gather  them,  and  if  we  hadn't  back-tracked,  we  would 
never  have  found  the  boy,  and  if  he  hadn't  been  found 
today,  he'd  have  died,  down  there  in  that  hollow. 
Now  we'll  all  get  through.  We  won't  stop  to  eat,  but 
Duke  and  Jenny  will  travel  a  little  faster  for  a  drink, 
and  so  will  the  rest  of  us.  Half  a  cup  for  you,  and 
half  a  cup  for  me,  and  half  a  pail  for  them,  to  wash 
the  dust  out  of  their  throats,  and  a  dozen  laps  for 
Shep.  And  one  more  cupful  for  our  new  partner, 
when  he  needs  it." 

"Well,"  said  Terry,  dubiously,  "I  don't  know 
whether  there's  that  much  in  the  keg  or  not." 

There  was,  and  a  swash  left.  The  boy  in  the  cart 
didn't  understand.  "Water!  Water!"  he  kept  beg- 
ging, as  the  Pike's  Peak  Limited  ("limited"  indeed) 
again  toiled  on  through  the  monotonous  flatness, 
Harry  guessing  at  the  right  direction  and  Terry  trudg- 
ing beside  the  rear  wheels.  That  incessant  cry  for 
"water,  water,"  grew  rather  annoying.  The  new  boy 
already  had  had  four  cupfuls  and  probably 'd  get  an- 
other! And  every  cupful  counted  now.  But  of 
course ! 

"We  must  go  on  as  far  as  we  possibly  can,  before 
dark,"  had  said  Harry.  "Or  until  we  strike  water, 
first." 

When  would  that  be?  Duke  and  Jenny  were  slug- 
gish on  their  feet,  and  frequently  stumbled  as  they 
groaned  along  with  their  stringy  tongues  dangling.  It 


JUST  IN  TIME  69 

was  slow  work,  and  hot  work,  and  awfully  thirsty 
work — Terry  wasn't  certain  that  he  could  hold  out 
much  longer  without  another  drink. 

"Do  we  drink  again  pretty  soon?"  he  stammered. 

"I  don't  think  we'd  better,  do  you?"  answered 
Harry,  as  if  trying  to  speak  cheerfully.  "We've  got 
to  save  some  for  Duke  and  Jenny,  and  our  passenger. 
We  can't  get  him  through  without  them  to  haul  him." 

"Tha'  so,"  agreed  Terry,  his  mouth  gluey. 
"Thasso." 

"Yesh,  thasso,"  encouraged  Harry.  "You  an*  I  aw- 
right.  We  unnerstan'.  They  don't." 

"Water !  Water !"  babbled  the  passenger.  His  voice 
was  the  clearest  of  any. 

Trudge,  trudge,  creak,  creak,  over  the  dry  plain, 
on  for  that  quivering  horizon  which  might  contain 
water  but  never  drew  nearer.  They  did  not  know 
where  they  were  going;  they  probably  had  passed  an- 
other of  the  stage  station  stakes;  bushy  black  Shep 
was  lagging,  Duke  and  Jenny  stumbled,  Harry  limped 
doggedly,  the  passenger  pleaded  ever  more  faintly  and 
piteously  until  Harry,  halting  abruptly,  without  a  word 
grimly  gave  him  half  a  dozen  swallows ;  and  when  they 
resumed,  Terry  had  decided  that  he'd  rather  have  a 
drink,  himself,  than  all  the  gold  of  Pike's  Peak. 

However,  Harry  took  none;  and  so  he  didn't  ask 
for  one. 

The  sun  was  low,  streaming  into  their  faces,  and 
dazzling  and  blinding.  Soon  it  would  set;  soon  they 
must  stop;  one  spot  would  be  as  good  as  another,  if 
they  didn't  come  to  water — and  just  how  he  was  to 


;o      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

get  through  a  dry  night,  following  a  dry  day,  Terry 
could  not  imagine — did  not  like  to  imagine,  anyway. 

That  keg,  when  Harry  had  tilted  it  to  give  those 
few  swallows  to  the  passenger,  had  sounded  alarmingly 
emptier  than  before.  Water  evaporated  mighty  fast 
on  these  plains. 

Turning  a  moment,  to  shut  the  sun  from  his  tor- 
tured eyes,  now  Terry  saw  something,  quartering  be- 
hind, on  the  right,  which  was  the  north.  What  ?  An- 
telope? No;  too  much  dust.  Antelope  didn't  raise 
such  dust.  Buffalo,  then?  More  buffalo?  Or  In- 
dians! No — and  a  wild  hope  surged  into  his  heart 
and  strengthened  his  voice,  as  he  cried,  to  Harry : 

"Harry!  Hurrah!  There's  somebody  else — an- 
other outfit!" 

Harry,  who  had  been  plodding  on,  stopped  to  gaze ; 
and  instantly  the  exhausted  Duke  and  Jenny  stopped. 

"Freighters,"  decided  Harry.  "Great  Scott !  Hur- 
rah! Or  maybe  some  of  the  stage-line  people.  We'll 
have  to  head  'em  off  and  make  'em  see  us.  Come  on. 
Hurrah!  Duke!  Jenny!  Gwan!  Water!  Water! 
Barrels  of  it — gallons  of  it!" 

Duke  and  Jenny  seemed  to  appreciate — they  started 
gallantly. 

"Gee — gee  with  you,  Duke !"  bade  Harry,  hobbling. 

"Do  you  think  they  will  have  water  ?"  panted  Terry. 

"Of  course.  But  we'll  have  to  catch  'em.  Duke! 
Jenny!  Hep!" 

The  dust  cloud  yonder  had  resolved  itself  into  quite 
a  large  outfit,  traveling  briskly.  There  was  a  herd  of 
animals — mules  or  horses ;  and  two  Wagons  following, 


JUST  IN  TIME  71 

drawn  each  by  four  span;  and  several  men  afoot,  and 
others  horseback. 

'They'll  have  to  camp  pretty  soon.  We'll  come  into 
'em,  if  we  keep  going,"  encouraged  Harry.  And  he 
added,  suddenly :  "Look  at  Jenny !  She  smells  water. 
And  so  does  Duke!" 

For  both  Duke  and  Jenny  were  alertly  stretching 
out — sniffing,  tugging,  trying  to  increase  their  pace. 
They  almost  trotted.  Could  they  really  smell  water 
in  barrels,  away  off  there — or  did  they  guess  ?  At  any 
rate,  the  two  routes  were  drawing  together. 

The  sun  sank  below  the  horizon,  and  a  pleasant  cool- 
ness flowed  over  the  landscape.  Now  in  the  twilight 
the  freighter  outfit  had  halted,  and  bunched.  Going 
to  make  camp?  No — there  it  started  again.  Pshaw! 
But  no — some  of  it  had  remained :  not  the  wagons, 
but  several  of  the  loose  stock,  and  two  men,  and  a 
heap  of  stuff. 

"Hurrah !"  gasped  Harry.  "That's  enough.  Enough 
for  us." 

Duke  and  Jenny  were  trying  to  break  into  a  gallop, 
and  their  owners  had  hard  work  to  keep  up.  The 
party  at  the  camp  had  seen  them  coming,  and  were 
pausing  in  their  camp-making  to  stare.  Now  at  a  stag- 
gering lope  and  trot  the  Pike's  Peak  Limited  fairly 
charged  in — would  have  run  right  over  the  camp  had 
not  the  two  men  there  rushed  out  and  waved  their 
arms  and  shouted. 

The  camp  was  on  the  edge  of  a  muddy  creek  course. 
That  was  what  ailed  Duke  and  Jenny;  only  by  main 
force  could  they  be  held  back. 


72       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"What's  the  matter?  Plumb  crazed?"  scolded  one 
of  the  men. 

"Their  critters  are  plumb  crazed,  don't  you  see?" 
reproved  the  other.  "Unhook  'em  and  let  'em  go,  or 
they'll  drag  cart  and  all  in." 

Harry  hustled,  Terry  hustled,  the  men  helped — and 
on  sprang  Duke  and  Jenny,  into  the  mud,  into  the 
water,  to  drink,  and  gulp,  and  drink  again,  and  stand 
there,  belly  deep,  soaking.  Terry  yearned  mightily  to 
join  them,  but  Harry  was  more  polite. 

"Whar  you  from?  You  look  nigh  tuckered  out, 
yourselves,"  accused  one  of  the  men. 

"So  we  are,"  gasped  Harry.  "We're  down  to  our 
last  drop — we've  a  man  aboard  the  cart  who's  worse 
off  still — picked  him  up  this  morning.  But  I  can't 
talk  till  I  have  a  drink." 

"Never  mind  the  creek ;  it's  too  roily.  We've  a  bar- 
rel full."  And  the  other  man  promptly  passed  over  a 
brimming  dipper.  Harry  took  it;  his  hand  trembled. 

"You  first,  Terry,"  he  said. 

Terry  shook  his  head. 

"We'll  take  turns,"  he  proposed.  "You  drink  and 
then  I'll  drink." 

Ah,  but  that  water,  warmish  and  brackish,  was 
good !  Together  they  emptied  the  dipper,  and  at  once 
emptied  another — and  by  this  time  the  two  men  had 
lifted  the  boy  from  the  cart  and  were  attending  to  him, 
also.  He  was  too  weak  to  talk,  but  he  seemed  to 
know,  and  smiled  when  he  likewise  had  drained  a 
dipper. 

"Give  him  a  little  broth,  later,"  grunted  one  of  the 


JUST  IN  TIME  73 

men.  "He  had  a  narrow  squeak,  I  reckon.  Mustn't 
overfeed  him.  We'll  stew  him  some  bufFler  meat. 
'Xpec'  you  fellers  are  hungry,  yourselves,  by  this 
time." 

"Haven't  eaten  all  day,"  laughed  Harry,  in  spirits 
again.  "But  where  are  we?  We're  looking  for  the 
stage  line,  and  the  Republican." 

"You  aren't  near  the  Republican  yet,  by  a  long 
shot.  But  this  is  a  stage  station,  all  right.  Fust 
stages  will  be  through  tomorrow  and  after  that  two 
at  a  time  every  day,  till  the  trail's  well  broken.  We're 
part  of  the  supply  outfit.  It  drops  some  of  us  off  every 
so  far  along  the  line,  ahead  of  the  stages,  so  we'll 
have  meals  and  lodgin'  and  a  change  of  mules  ready. 
You  needn't  do  much  unpackin' ;  we've  grub  enough, 
and  you  can  bunk  with  us  and  put  that  sick  boy  in 
the  tent." 

"Yes,  and  the  stages'll  take  him  on  tomorrow," 
spoke  the  other  man.  "You'll  have  to  lie  by,  anyhow. 
You  can't  start  your  critters  out  till  after  they've  rested 
a  bit.  That's  a  great  team  you've  got — a  buffalo  and 
a  mule !  Where  you  from  ?" 

"The  Big  Blue,"  answered  Terry. 

"Oh !  You're  the  boys  from  the  Big  Blue,  are  you  ? 
You're  the  ones  who  spilled  Chubbers'  whiskey." 

So  even  they  knew ! 

The  station  agent  and  his  helper  were  a  hospitable 
pair.  Harry  volunteered  to  attend  to  the  cooking  while 
they  straightened  the  camp  a  little,  for  the  night.  The 
supply  wagon  had  dumped  off  a  tent,  a  stove,  a  barrel 
for  water,  a  bale  of  hay,  bedding,  sacks  and  boxes 


74       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

of  provisions,  several  bunches  of  fire-wood,  etc.  The 
tent  was  erected,  the  rescued  boy  placed  inside  and 
given  a  little  broth.  He  immediately  went  to  sleep. 

This  was  Station  Twelve — a  dinner  station  for  the 
stages.  The  next  station,  Number  Thirteen,  about 
twenty-five  miles  farther  on,  was  a  night  station.  The 
stations  would  average  about  twenty-five  miles  apart, 
through  this  region,  to  the  diggings.  Farther  east,  in 
the  settlements,  the  stations  were  closer.  One  hundred 
stages  and  a  thousand  mules  would  be  put  on  the  run, 
at  a  cost  of  $800  a  day.  The  company,  Jones  &  Rus- 
.  sell  of  Leavenworth,  already  had  spent  $300,000.  The 
fare  from  Leavenworth  to  the  mountains  was  $100 
gold,  and  shorter  trips  were  twenty-five  cents  a  mile. 
Time  to  the  mountains,  twelve  days — maybe  less  when 
the  trail  was  well  broken,  and  if  the  Indians  didn't 
bother. 

"Two  stages  travelin'  together  will  hold  off  the  In- 
juns," remarked  the  station  agent. 

"Heigh-ho!"  drowsily  yawned  Harry,  after  dusk, 
from  his  blankets.  "All's  well  that  ends  well — but  I 
was  getting  a  trifle  worried." 

He  and  Terry  had  decided  to  wait  for  the  stages, 
and  to  let  Duke  and  Jenny  rest  during  at  least  half 
that  next  day.  The  fact  is,  they  were  willing  to  rest, 
themselves. 

Toward  noon  the  station  men  paused  in  their  tasks, 
to  gaze  more  and  more  frequently  into  the  east. 

"Thar  they  come,"  quietly  informed  one;  and  now 
all  gazed,  expectant. 

"Right  on  time." 


JUST  IN  TIME  75 

Upon  the  surface  of  the  vast  plains  to  the  south  of 
east  had  appeared  a  dot.  It  rapidly  enlarged,  and 
resolved  into  two  dots,  one  behind  the  other.  They 
were  coming — they  were  coming:  the  first  stage- 
coaches, sure  enough ;  each  drawn  by  four  mules,  driver 
on  seat,  other  people  on  seat  and  roof,  heads  protrud- 
ing from  windows,  mules  at  a  gallop. 

"Yes,  sir-ee !     On  time  to  the  minute." 

Swaying  and  lurching  and  dust-enveloped,  with 
creak  of  leather  and  sudden  grind  of  brake-shoes,  the 
leading  stage  slackened  at  the  station,  stopped  abruptly, 
and  setting  the  brake  more  securely  the  driver  tossed 
his  lines  to  the  ground  and  in  leisurely  fashion  de- 
scended. He  was  in  slouch  hat,  white  shirt-sleeves  (or 
whitish,  rather),  yellow  kid  gloves  and  shiny  boots. 
Somewhat  of  a  dandy,  he. 

Another  man  swung  down  from  the  seat,  after  him ; 
so  did  the  passengers  atop  the  coach,  and  those  within 
piled  out.  The  second  coach  arrived  in  like  fashion. 

The  first  coach  was  painted  red,  the  second  green; 
and  both  were  gilt  striped  and  bore,  in  gilt  letters,  the 
announcement :  "Leavenworth  and  Pike's  Peak  Ex- 
press Company." 

The  station-agent's  assistant  bustled  to  unhitch  the 
mules  and  put  in  fresh  ones.  The  station  agent  served 
the  dinner,  of  cold  boiled  buffalo  meat,  bread  and 
coffee.  The  passengers  ate  out  of  doors,  sitting  on  the 
boxes  and  a  nail-keg. 

One  of  the  passengers  who  had  ridden  on  top  of 
the  coach  was  a  busy,  inquiring  man  with  a  full  brown 
beard  and  a  blue  eye  and  a  long  linen  duster.  After 


76      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

he  had  eaten  he  walked  over  to  Harry  and  Terry. 

"I'm  Henry  Villard,  from  the  Cincinnati  Commer- 
cial/' he  said,  genially.  "The  station  agent  tells  me 
that  you  boys  have  had  quite  an  exciting  experience 
on  this  new  trail.  Buffalo  stampede,  and  a  rescue,  and 
all  that.  Fd  like  to  hear  about  it  and  send  it  to  my 
paper.  It  ought  to  make  a  good  story." 

The  man  who  had  occupied  the  seat  with  the  driver 
also  came  over. 

"A  buffalo,  a  mule  and  a  two- wheeled  cart,  eh  ?"  he 
commented.  "Well,  I  guess  you'll  make  it,  if  you've 
got  so  far.  But  there  are  five  thousand  other  pilgrims 
behind  us,  some  with  worse  outfits  than  yours,  and  all 
pushing  on  by  this  same  trail,  to  find  the  'elephant/  ' 

Journalist  Villard  took  notes;  he  even  interviewed 
the  boy  in  the  tent.  The  boy  was  now  able  to  talk. 
He  said  that  his  name  was  Archie  Smith.  He  and 
two  others  had  started  from  Ohio,  to  walk  to  the  dig- 
gin's.  They  had  tried  to  cut  across  north  from  the 
Smoky  Hill  trail  and  had  got  lost — and  the  last  he 
remembered  he  was  wandering  alone,  so  weak  from 
hunger  and  thirst  that  he  had  fallen  down. 

The  man  who  had  spoken  of  the  five  thousand  pil- 
grims behind  (his  name  was  Beverly  D.  Williams,  and 
he  was  the  stage-line  superintendent,  on  his  initial  tour 
of  inspection),  helped  Archie  into  the  red  coach. 

"All  aboard!"  summoned  the  drivers,  climbing  to 
their  seats.  The  passengers  hastily  took  their  places. 
As  the  red  coach  started  with  a  jump,  from  the  win- 
dow Archie  waved  his  hand  at  Harry  and  Terry,  and 
called  again : 


JUST  IN  TIME  77 

"Thanks.  I  owe  you  a  lot.  I'll  see  you  at  the 
mines.  Don't  forget.  I'll  see  you  at  the  mines." 

With  a  jump  the  green  coach  started  also.  And 
away  rolled,  tugged  by  their  galloping  mules,  the  first 
stages  for  Pike's  Peak,  bearing  Journalist  Henry  Vil- 
lard  of  the  Cincinnati  Commercial  and  Superintendent 
Williams,  and  those  passengers  who,  like  Mr.  Villard, 
were  bent  on  discovering  just  how  true  the  "elephant" 
stories  were. 


CHAPTER   VII 

i 

SHEP  DOES   HIS  DUTY 

THE  Pike's  Peak  Limited  prepared  to  follow. 

"Five  thousand  pilgrims !  Did  you  hear  that  ?  All 
coming  along  behind!"  exclaimed  Terry,  as  he  and 
Harry  "hooked"  the  now  rested  Duke  and  Jenny  to 
the  cart.  "These  are  new  ones.  He  didn't  say  any- 
thing about  the  other  trails." 

"We  heard  how  they  were,  before  we  left,"  re- 
minded Harry.  "And  we  saw  a  right  smart  smatter- 
ing of  folks  at  Manhattan,  remember.  Oh,  I  don't 
think  we'll  be  lonesome." 

"All  you've  got  to  do  now  is  to  follow  the  stage 
tracks,"  directed  the  station  agent.  "You'll  come  to 
stations  every  so  often.  But  you'd  best  keep  your 
water  keg  filled.  There's  no  knowin'  what' 11  happen 
on  these  plains." 

"Yes,  sir,"  concurred  his  helper.  "And  keep  your 
weather  eye  peeled  for  Injuns.  Don't  let  'em  bam- 
boozle you  or  if  they  don't  take  your  scalps  they'll 
steal  you  blind.  When  Injuns  come  in,  hang  tight  to 
your  scatter-gun." 

"Haven't  seen  any,  so  far,"  remarked  Harry. 

"No ;  but  you  can't  tell.     In  my  opinion  that  buff'lo 

78 


SHEP  DOES  HIS  DUTY  79 

stampede  was  caused  by  Injuns — like  as  not  that  was 
why  the  buff'lo  drifted  down  on  you  in  the  fust  place. 
And  if  you  hadn't  got  out  when  you  did,  in  a  hurry, 
you'd  have  had  more  trouble,  plenty." 

The  stages  had  long  since  disappeared  in  the  west, 
but  the  tracks  were  plain.  Tomorrow  there  would  be 
other  stages,  and  the  next  day  others,  and  so  on,  had 
said  the  station  men ;  and  before  the  Limited  had  even 
sighted  the  mountains  some  of  these  same  stages  would 
be  met  coming  back.  That  made  travel  at  a  walk  seem 
rather  slow,  especially  when  gold  was  waiting  only  to 
be  found. 

A  second  pair  of  stages  passed  them,  with  a  swirl 
of  dust  and  a  cheer,  late  the  next  afternoon,  but  they 
found  them  spending  the  night  at  Station  Thirteen,  on 
the  bank  of  another  creek.  Here  they  also  camped. 

"Twenty-five  miles  again,"  sighed  Harry,  satisfied. 
"Well  get  there." 

Duke  and  Jenny  had  indeed  footed  sturdily.  The 
hurrying  stages  seemed  to  be  an  inspiration  to  them. 
They  felt  that  they,  also,  were  now  going  somewhere. 

The  coaches  had  been  full.  There  were  two  women, 
who  slept  in  the  station  tent.  The  men  passengers  slept 
on  the  ground,  under  a  canopy  of  gunny  sacking 
stretched  over  stakes.  For  their  own  comfort  the  sta- 
tion employees  were  digging  a  cave  in  the  side  of  an 
arroyo  or  dry  wash,  where  they  might  house  them- 
selves and  cook,  in  bad  weather.  Could  fight  off  the 
Indians  from  it,  too,  they  said. 

The  talk  among  the  passengers  was  mainly  of  buf- 
falo, Indians  and  the  other  sights  along  the  trail.  The 


8o      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

Indians  had  been  bothering  the  timid  pilgrim's  consid- 
erably, with  begging  and  stealing,  but  had  not  both- 
ered the  stages. 

"We'll  take  no  chances,  though,"  declared  the  stage- 
driver.  "Never  let  an  Injun  think  you're  afraid  of 
him — that's  the  secret.  Once  start  to  give  in,  and 
you're  lost.  Most  of  these  pilgrims  never've  had  ex- 
perience with  the  plains  Injuns.  They  try  to  please 
'em  and  buy  their  good-will  by  giving  'em  something 
for  nothing,  and  the  Injuns  don't  understand.  Giving 
something  for  nothing  isn't  Injun  way.  It  amounts  to 
being  afraid.  Why,  we  passed  at  least  half  a  dozen 
outfits  who'd  been  so  good  to  the  Injuns  that  they 
didn't  have  a  critter  left — every  head  driven  off,  some 
in  broad  daylight,  and  there  the  wagons  were  sitting. 
One  wagon  had  said  at  first  'Pike's  Peak  or  Bust,'  and 
now  it  said,  'Busted,  by  Thunder !'  " 

"Must  have  been  Kiowas  or  Cheyennes.  The  'Rapa- 
hoes  aren't  ranging  so  far  east,  are  they?"  suggested 
the  station  agent. 

"Oh,  they're  all  ranging  everywhere,  now,  following 
the  buffalo  and  begging  from  the  pilgrims,"  quoth  the 
driver.  "Kiowas,  Cheyennes  and  'Rapahoes — they're 
in  cahoots.  But  I  hear  tell  that  the  main  band  of  the 
'Rapahoes  under  old  Little  Raven  are  sticking  'round 
Cherry  Creek,  camped  there  on  their  winter  grounds, 
along  with  the  whites,  instead  of  chasing  the  buffalo. 
It's  easier." 

The  Pike's  Peak  Limited  pulled  out  early,  bent  on 
making  time  and  not  be  overtaken  by  those  five  thou- 
sand rivals  who  were  still  coming.  In  about  an  hour 


SHEP  DOES  HIS  DUTY  81 

and  a  half  the  stages  passed  at  a  gallop,  while  the 
drivers  saluted  with  a  flourish  of  whips.  And  the 
Limited  proceeded  to  plod  after. 

Buffalo  had  become  quite  abundant.  They  were  con- 
stantly in  sight — large  bunches  and  small;  but  Duke 
seemed  to  have  had  his  fill  of  rampaging,  and  paid 
little  attention  to  his  kin-people.  However,  as  Harry 
remarked,  where  there  were  buffalo,  there  likely  were 
Indians. 

"If  any  do  come  in  on  us,"  he  said,  "I'll  grab  the 
gun  and  you  tend  to  Jennie.  If  there's  one  thing  a 
mule  hates  worse  than  buffalo,  it's  Injun — and  Jenny's 
powerful  sensitive,  poor  thing." 

"Maybe  we  ought  to  mount  guard  tonight,"  pro- 
posed Terry.  "I'll  sit  up  and  then  you  sit  up."  Mount- 
ing guard  for  fear  of  Indian  attack  would  be  another 
fine  story  to  tell  to  George  Stanton. 

"Not  yet,"  decided  Harry.  "We'll  stake  Jenny  in 
close,  and  she's  awake  all  night  anyway.  At  least, 
with  her  grunts  and  groans  she  sounds^  like  it." 

"I  suppose  Shep  would  make  a  racket,  too." 

"W-well,"  mused  Harry,  "I  believe  I'd  rather  trust 
to  Jenny's  ears  and  nose  than  to  Shep's — there's  more 
of  them." 

The  buffalo  before  and  on  either  side  grazed  peace- 
fully; but  about  three  o'clock  that  afternoon  a  com- 
motion was  evident  behind.  The  buffalo  were  scam- 
pering, and  afar  on  the  trail  appeared  a  little  cloud  of 
dust. 

"Can't  be  another  stage  already,  can  it  ?"  questioned 
Harry. 


82       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Injuns !"  exclaimed  Terry.  "But  they  wouldn't  be 
raising  dust,  would  they?  Or  maybe  they're  chasing 
a  stage!" 

Harry  paled  slightly. 

"We'll  soon  see.  But  they  won't  get  this  outfit  with- 
out a  heap  of  trouble.  We're  going  through  to  the 
diggin's." 

However,  it  wasn't  a  stage.  It  was  a  light  open 
wagon,  drawn  by  two  horses  at  a  furious  pace.  Any- 
body might  have  thought  that  the  horses  were  running 
away,  except  for  the  fact  that  a  man  on  the  seat  was 
using  the  whip. 

"Great  snakes !"  ejaculated  Harry.  "We'll  have  to 
clear  the  track.  Gee,  Duke!  Jenny!  Gee!  Gee-up! 
Whoa-oa!" 

He  turned  out  just  in  time.  The  on-comers  were 
in  a  tearing  hurry.  The  horses,  red-nostriled,  staring- 
eyed,  lathered  and  dust-caked,  looked  like  chariot 
racers  in  full  career — two  men  were  on  the  seat,  one 
driving,  the  other  plying  the  whip,  and  both  constantly 
gazing  backward.  They  wore  visored  caps  and  belted 
blouses  and  knee  trousers — revolvers,  knives,  field- 
glasses;  up  and  down  in  the  wagon  jolted  a  mass  of 
camp  stuff,  and  guns,  and  provisions.  This  much 
Terry  saw  during  the  last  minute  in  which  the  equipage 
arrived,  dashed  half-way  past,  and  there  was  pulled 
short  with  a  suddenness  which  set  the  two  horses  on 
their  haunches. 

"Injuns !"  cried  the  two  men,  over  their  shoulders, 
"Cut  loose  for  your  lives !" 

One  was  a  blond,  pinky-skinned  man,  the  other  was 


SHEP  DOES  HIS  DUTY  83 

not  so  fair ;  but  the  faces  of  both  were  faded  to  a  dead, 
dusty  white  by  fear.  Their  eyes  were  curiously  poppy. 

"Where?  How  many?"  demanded  Harry  and 
Terry,  in  the  same  breath. 

"Chasing  us!  Five  hundred  of  'em!  Raiding  the 
stage  line !  Plundering  the  stations !  Killing  the  emi- 
grants! Burning  the  settlements!  Cut  loose!  Ride 
for  your  lives!"  answered  the  two  men,  in  a  sort  of 
duet. 

"Five  hundred  are  quite  a  parcel  to  be  chasing  two 
men,"  drawled  Harry.  "Where'll  we  ride  to,  and 
how?"  Mighty  cool  Harry  was,  in  the  midst  of 
alarm,  thought  Terry.  "All  right,"  continued  Harry, 
briskly.  "One  of  us'll  get  on  this  mule  and  you  can 
take  the  other  in  your  wagon  and " 

"No,  no!  No  room!"  they  protested.  "We've  a 
load.  We  can't  wait.  Cut  loose.  You'll  catch  us. 
Ride  for  your  lives.  How  far  to  the  next  station  ?" 

"  'Bout  ten  miles,"  drawled  Harry. 

"Gid-dap !"  Down  swished  the  lash,  forward  sprang 
the  horses.  "There  they  come!"  yelled  both  men. 
"We're  all  dead "  and  away  they  tore  again,  lean- 
ing forward  on  the  seat,  shaking  the  lines  and  plying 
the  whip,  and  constantly  looking  back  up  the  trail. 

"Jiminy !"  gasped  Terry.  "They  said  five  hundred. 
What  are  we  to  do?  We  can't  fight  off  as  many  as 
that.  You — you  can  have  Jenny,"  and  he  choked. 
"I'll  ride  Duke.  Hurry!" 

But  Harry  appeared  to  be  in  no  especial  hurry.  He 
scratched  his  long  nose  reflectively,  and  surveyed  the 
trail  behind. 


84       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Don't  see  'em,  do  you?"  he  invited.  "  'Five  hun- 
dred of  them' — 'raiding  the  stage  line' — 'plundering 
the  stations' — 'killing  the  emigrants' — 'burning  the  set- 
tlements' !"  He  was  mimicking  the  two  fugitives. 
"Five  hundred  fiddlesticks!  That's  too  many  Indians 
at  one  time.  Besides,  there  aren't  any  settlements 
'round  here  to  burn,  except  at  the  mountains,  and 
those  two  lunatics  haven't  been  to  the  mountains  yet. 
And  if  we  'cut  loose'  and  'rode  for  our  lives,'  where'd 
we  ride  to?  Might  better  save  our  strength  and  dig 
a  hole." 

"Don't  you  believe  them,  then?" 

"No.  You  can't  believe  cowards.  I  don't  blame 
them  any  for  running  away  from  five  hundred  Indians, 
but  it  was  right  mean  to  run  away  from  us.  So  I 
sized  up  that  a  husky  outfit  who'd  leave  a  lame  man 
and  a  boy  to  escape  on  a  mule  and  a  buffalo  while 
they  went  ahead  with  a  good  team  and  wagon  couldn't 
be  depended  on  in  talk  or  action  either.  Why,  they 
had  guns  enough  there  to  fight  a  week!  Guess  they 
were  on  a  hunting  trip  across,  and  are  nervous.  G'lang, 
Duke!  Jenny!  Let's  keep  going." 

"There  are  Indians  coming,  just  the  same,"  pres- 
ently informed  Terry,  who  could  not  help  but  peep 
behind. 

"Two — three — five,"  pronounced  Harry.  "They're 
the  five  hundred  whittled  down  to  fact.  We  needn't 
pay  any  attention  to  the  four  hundred  and  ninety-five 
others  yet.  You  watch  Jenny,  and  Shep  and  I'll  watch 
these  fellows." 

The  Indians,  five  of  them,  were  rapidly  approaching 


SHEP  DOES  HIS  DUTY  85 

at  a  lope,  down  the  stage  trail.  When  they  were  within 
two  hundred  yards  Harry,  uttering  a  sudden  "Whoa !" 
fell  back  to  the  rear  of  the  wagon  and,  grabbing  the 
shot-gun,  faced  about,  and  raised  his  hand  as  sign  for 
them  to  stay  their  distance.  They  slackened  in  a  jiffy, 
but  one  rode  ahead,  to  talk. 

They  were  armed  with  bows  and  lances;  half 
clothed  in  blankets  and  moccasins ;  appeared  very  dirty 
but  seemed  good-natured.  The  old  fellow  who  rode 
ahead  was  a  stout,  grinning  Indian — chief,  evidently, 
by  the  feather  in  his  greasy  hair. 

"How  ?"  he  grunted,  from  his  ambling  spotted  pony. 
"No  shoot.  'Rapaho.  No  hurt  um  white  man.  Chase 
um.  Heap  fun.  See  wagon  men?  Heap  fun." 

"Keep  back,"  warned  Harry,  over  the  barrel  of  the 
shot-gun.  "No  fun  here.  We  don't  run." 

"There's  Thunder  Horse,  Harry!"  hissed  Terryf 
who,  guarding  the  team,  had  an  eye  also  upon  the 
Indians. 

The  stout  spokesman  on  the  spotted  pony  was  really 
quite  good-looking;  three  of  the  others  were  not  much 
worse;  but  the  fifth  in  the  squad  was  entirely  differ- 
ent— his  hair  was  cut  short  on  the  one  side  and  left 
long  on  the  other,  instead  of  being  in  two  braids,  and 
his  naturally  ugly  face  was  pitted  with  small-pox  scars. 
His  blanket  was  the  dirtiest  of  all  the  blankets,  his 
features  the  greasiest,  his  mouth  the  coarsest ;  and  now 
as  he  also  tried  to  smile,  his  blood-shot  eyes  glared 
fiercely. 

Thunder  Horse,  the  Kiowa,  he  was,  again :  the  out- 
law Indian  whom  Terry  had  first  encountered  among 


86      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

the  Delawares  on  the  emigrant  trail  into  Kansas,  a 
year  ago,  and  who  had  been  an  enemy  ever  since.  He 
was  a  drunken  rascal,  was  Thunder  Horse;  nothing 
seemed  too  mean  for  him  to  try.  He  even  had  stolen 
George  and  Virgie  Stanton ;  but  Terry  had  helped  them 
to  get  away. 

Terry  recognized  Thunder  Horse — and  Thunder 
Horse  evidently  had  recognized  Terry,  and  Shep,  too. 
Terry  had  pelted  him  with  eggs,  and  Shep  had  nipped 
him  in  the  calf.  So  Thunder  Horse  smiled  at  Harry 
and  scowled  at  Terry  and  Shep. 

"Which  one  ?"  asked  Harry,  aside.    "The  ugly  one  ?" 

"Yes.     Look  out  for  him.     You'd  better." 

"All  good.  Like  um  white  boy.  White  boy  give 
'Rapaho  shoog,  coff,"  wheedled  the  chief,  advancing; 
and  now  another  of  the  Arapahoes  rode  forward. 

"Him  Little  Raven;  big  chief,"  he  said,  speaking 
English  very  clearly.  "Me  Left  Hand.  Little  Raven 
talk  not  much  English.  I  talk  for  him.  Where  you 
going?" 

"To  the  mines,  of  course." 

"You  see  two  men  in  wagon?" 

"Yes." 

"We  no  harm  them.  They  run,  then  we  yell  and 
they  run  faster.  Little  Raven  want  to  ask  if  you  give 
him  a  little  sugar  and  coffee." 

"Haven't  any  to  spare." 

"Give  him  a  little  sugar,  little  coffee,  little  bread, 
and  mebbe  he  show  you  where  heap  gold  in  the  moun- 
tains." 

"No,  no,"  refused  Harry.    "Stand  back,  all  of  you," 


SHEP  DOES  HIS  DUTY  87 

for  the  other  Indians  were  edging  toward  the  wagon, 
from  either  side.  Jenny  smelled  them,  and  had  grown 
restive — trembled,  snorted,  and  Shep  maintained  a  con- 
stant growling  from  underneath  the  wagon. 

"All  right."  And  Left  Hand  spoke  gutturally  for 
the  information  of  Little  Raven,  who  nodded.  "Brave 
boys.  Not  foolish  and  run.  Good-bye." 

Little  Raven  insisted  on  shaking  hands  with  Harry 
and  with  Terry.  "G'bye,"  he  grunted.  "Heap  boy. 
No  run,"  when  suddenly  Terry  cried,  past  him,  to  a 
figure  on  horseback: 

"Get  out  o'  there !" 

During  the  leave-taking  Thunder  Horse  had  sidled 
in  with  the  others,  and  pressing  along  the  wagon, 
behind  Harry  (who  had  considerable  to  watch  with 
one  pair  of  eyes  and  one  gun),  was  stealthily  thrusting 
his  arm  in  under  the  edge  of  the  canvas  hood. 

"Get  out  o'  there !"  yelped  Terry. 

Harry  turned  hastily — but  there  was  a  snarl,  a 
whoop,  and  back  careened  Thunder  Horse,  on  his  pony, 
with  Shep  hanging  to  his  moccasin.  The  moccasin  and 
the  foot  within  it,  extending  below  the  cart,  and  so 
convenient,  had  been  too  much  for  Shep.  Besides, 
their  owner  was  up  to  mischief!  Shep  knew  him  of 
old. 

Thunder  Horse  kicked  vigorously — and  while  the 
other  Indians  laughed  and  shouted,  and  Shep  held 
hard,  shaking  and  worrying,  he  jerked  his  knife  from 
somewhere — flung  himself  low  and  stabbed  at  his 
black  shaggy  tormentor. 

"Shep!"  called  Terry,  alarmed.    "Quit  it!    Here!" 


88   THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

With  a  final  dodge,  Shep  tore  the  moccasin  loose 
and  carried  it  under  the  cart.  Glaring  a  moment  at 
the  cart,  at  Terry,  at  Harry,  Thunder  Horse,  scowling 
blackly,  rode  on.  The  four  Arapahoes,  laughing 
among  themselves,  followed.  The  way  with  which 
Shep  had  astonished  Thunder  Horse  amused  them 
greatly. 

The  next  noon,  when  the  Pike's  Peak  Limited  passed 
the  stage  station,  the  agent  hailed  with  the  question: 

"Say!  Was  it  your  dog  that  bit  that  Kiowa  in  the 
foot?" 

"Yes.    He'd  tried  to  steal  from  the  cart." 

"Well,  served  him  right.  'Twasn't  much  of  a  bite, 
but  he  had  a  powerful  sore  foot  when  he  and  those 
'Rapahoes  went  out  this  mornin'.  They  camped  here 
all  night." 

"Teeth  scurcely  broke  the  skin;  but  he's  been  so 
pizened  with  whiskey  that  any  least  scratch  on  him's 
liable  to  make  a  bad  sore,"  added  the  agent's  helper. 

"Did  two  men  with  a  team  and  a  wagon  get  here 
in  a  hurry,  yesterday  evening?"  asked  Harry.  "Ahead 
of  the  Indians?" 

"Yes,  sir!"  laughed  the  agent.  "Those  hunter 
greenhorns,  you  mean,  flying  from  a  massacre?  We 
calmed  'em  down,  let  'em  hide  in  the  tent,  and  told 
'em  if  they'd  stay  behind  the  massacre  it  wouldn't 
catch  'em.  So  they  waited  until  the  massacre  left,  then 
they  left." 

For  the  next  week  and  more  the  Pike's  Peak  Limited 
kept  hearing,  from  station  to  station,  of  Thunder 
Horse  and  his  sore  foot.  His  foot  had  swollen,  his 


SHEP  DOES  HIS  DUTY  89 

leg  had  swollen  to  the  knee,  it  had  swollen  above  the 
knee,  it  was  still  swelling — and  he  was  very  surly,  and 
evidently  in  much  pain,  and  drunk  whenever  he  could 
obtain  any  liquor. 

The  hunters'  wagon  disappeared,  between  stations, 
as  if  on  a  short-cut  to  the  Republican;  and  soon  there- 
after the  Chief  Little  Raven  squad,  including  the  then 
much  distressed  Thunder  Horse  (whose  leg,  said  the 
last  agent,  ought  to  be  cut  off),  disappeared  also. 

The  Pike's  Peak  Limited  plodded  along.  At  some 
time  every  day  a  stage  or  two  stages  from  Leaven- 
worth  on  the  Missouri  River  passed,  usually  full,  but 
occasionally  half  empty.  The  Valley  of  the  Republi- 
can was  close  before,  and  behind  was  pressing  nearer 
the  van  of  that  great  procession. 

"They're  beginning  to  raise  a  dust,"  remarked 
Harry,  gazing  back. 

"Yes;  but  you  can  see  a  dust  ahead,  too/'  said 
Terry.  "Hope  we  get  there  first." 

That  night  the  camp-fires  of  the  leading  outfits  on 
the  trail  behind  were  plainly  visible,  winking  through 
the  darkness;  and  down  in  the  broad  Republican  Val- 
ley scattered  other  camp-fires  were  winking. 

"An  early  start  for  us  in  the  morning,  remember," 
enjoined  Harry. 

It  was  almost  noon  when,  just  beating  a  faster-step- 
ping team  trying  to  overtake,  the  Pike's  Peak  Limited, 
first  pilgrim  outfit  through  by  the  new  stage  route, 
filed  into  the  well-trodden,  dusty  trail  made  now  by 
stage  and  gold-seekers  combined  up  the  wide  valley 
of  the  Republican. 


90      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Hee-haw!"  exulted  Jenny;  but  Duke  the  half-buf- 
falo only  flirted  his  little  tail  at  sight  of  the  new 
company. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  TRAIL  GROWS  LIVELY 

YES,  plenty  of  company  now.  The  procession  had 
penetrated  a  short  distance  before,  but  stretched  a 
farther  distance  behind  or  eastward:  white-topped 
wagons  of  all  descriptions,  their  canvases  torn  by  hail, 
stained  by  rain  and  dingy  with  dust,  drawn  by  ox- 
teams,  mule-teams  and  even  cow-teams,  and  accom- 
panied by  men,  women  and  children  afoot,  a  few 
ahorse,  every  individual  and  every  animal  striving  to 
reach  the  Pike's  Peak  country  and  the  Cherry  Creek 
diggings  there. 

The  pilgrimage  was  about  to  "noon" ;  and  with  Duke 
and  Jenny  pulling  bravely,  making  their  best  showing, 
the  Limited  skirted  the  line,  while  good-naturedly  re- 
plying to  the  various  welcomes. 

Pretty  soon  the  road  ahead  was  blocked,  as  the  over- 
landers  spread  right  and  left  to  cook  and  eat  dinner. 

"Let's  drive  off  to  the  side,  yonder,  Terry,"  bade 
Harry.  "That  looks  like  a  good  spot  near  to  that 
'Root  Hog  or  Die'  outfit." 

"How  are  you,  boys  ?"  greeted  the  proprietor  of  the 
"Root  Hog  or  Die"  wagon.  "We're  most  of  us  from 
Ohio.  Where  are  you  from?" 


92       THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"From  the  Big  Blue  Valley,  Kansas  Territory,  far- 
ther east,"  answered  Harry. 

"We  came  by  the  stage  trail/'  added  Terry. 

"I  see.  Well,  we  took  a  vote  and  decided  on  the 
Republican  Valley,  and  a  hard  time  we've  had,  but 
here  we  are.  What  do  you  say  to  cooking  our  dinner 
on  the  one  fire,  and  we'll  swap  notes?" 

He  seemed  to  be  an  extraordinarily  well-spoken  man, 
notwithstanding  his  untrimmed  beard  and  rough  garb. 
Was  a  college  professor,  as  happened,  in  Ohio;  and 
was  going  to  the  mountains  for  his  health  as  well  as 
to  make  a  fortune.  So  here  he  was,  with  his  wife  and 
little  girl,  accompanying  a  lot  of  other  Ohio  people. 

Leaving  Duke  and  Jenny  to  graze  a  little  while 
longer,  after  dinner  the  "boys  from  the  Big  Blue" 
strolled  about,  to  inspect  other  outfits  and  exchange 
information.  The  noon  camp  was  rather  quiet,  with 
the  men  and  women  and  children  resting  or  finishing 
their  dishes;  but  back  down  the  trail  there  appeared 
to  be  a  commotion — as  of  people  gathering  around  a 
wagon  from  which  a  man  was  making  a  speech. 

"Come  on.  We  might  as  well  see  all  the  sights  on 
the  way,"  bade  Harry. 

The  speech-maker's  back  was  toward  them.  Terry 
figured  that  if  he  talked  as  rapidly  as  he  flourished  his 
arms,  his  speech  would  soon  be  ended  for  lack  of 
words.  However,  the  words  were  still  flowing  strong. 
Something  in  the  loud  tone,  and  the  gestures,  and  the 
long  unkempt  black  hair,  and  the  high  thick  shoulders 
in  the  ragged  shirt,  and  the  greasy  slouch  hat,  struck 
Terry  as  familiar. 


THE  TRAIL  GROWS  LIVELY  93 

"Pine  Knot  Ike !"  he  exclaimed. 

"The  very  man — our  valued  acquaintance  and  fel- 
low citizen,  Ike  Chubbers,  'half  wild  hoss  and  half 
grizzly  b'ar,'  "  chuckled  Harry.  "We'll  stand  off  and 
listen  to  his  discourse." 

They  halted  on  the  edge  of  the  little  throng,  from 
where  they  could  view  Ike's  hairy  profile  as,  beating 
the  air  with  his  fists,  above  the  upturned  gaping  faces, 
he  delivered  his  harangue. 

"I  air  the  only  man  who  ever  roped  an'  rid  an  alli- 
gator in  its  native  swamps,"  he  was  proclaiming,  and 
already  he  was  quite  hoarse.  "I  air  the  only  man  who 
fit  off  five  hunderd  of  the  wust  savage  Injuns  that 
roam  these  hyar  plains,  an'  killed  nigh  every  one  of 
'em.  Gentlemen  an'  feller  citizens :  Look  at  this  hyar 
bar'l.  Count  the  bullet-holes."  And  by  main  force  Ike 
held  aloft  his  whiskey  barrel.  It  certainly  was  well 
peppered  with  holes.  "When  the  savage  Injuns  come 
down  on  me  I  war  alone,  travelin'  my  peaceful  way 
to  help  civilize  the  diggin's,  but  I  war  too  tough  to 
kill.  Injuns  make  a  mistake  when  they  attack  a  man 
o'  my  nater,  gentlemen,  for  I  air  slow  to  wrath,  but  I 
air  a  powerful  fighter  when  anybody,  red  or  white, 
goes  to  twist  my  tail.  I  air  a  ring-tail  twister  myself, 
gentlemen.  So  I  tells  my  bulls  to  charge  them  Injuns, 
an'  I  forts  myself  behind  this  bar'l  an'  opens  up  with 
my  pill-slingers.  We  fit  for  a  runnin'  mile,  until  this 
bar'l  war  as  you  see  it  now,  gents,  an'  what  Injuns 
warn't  dead  had  fired  all  their  shots  an'  skeedaddled. 
Then  I  gets  out  an*  cuts  off  the  head  of  the  chief  of 
'em  all,  an'  puts  it  in  the  bar'l,  an'  hyar  it  is  on  exhi- 


94      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

bition.  The  head  complete  of  a  real,  native  wild  In- 
jun, ladies  an'  gents — the  actual  head  of  old  Roarin' 
Buffler,  big  chief  o'  the  combined  Sioux,  Kiowa,  Chey- 
enne an'  'Rapaho  nations,  most  o'  who  air  still  lay  in' 
out  thar  on  the  desolate  plains,  sculped  by  my  own 
hands.  Old  Roarin'  Buffler  hisself  put  seven  holes  in 
this  bar'l  'fore  his  head  went  in.  The  head  air  nicely 
pickled  an'  perfectly  natteral,  ladies  an'  gents ;  an'  for 
the  privilege  o'  seein'  it  I  ax  only  a  small  collection. 
Will  you  kindly  cirkilate  my  hat,  an'  be  keerful  not 
to  take  out  more'n  you  drop  in." 

Whereupon,  having  handed  down  his  battered  slouch 
hat,  Ike  paused,  wiped  his  face  with  a  dirty  bandanna, 
and  seated  himself  upon  his  scarred  barrel. 

"He  put  every  hole  in  that  with  his  own  revolver,  I 
bet  you !"  whispered  Terry.  "The  old  fraud !" 

"A  convenient  way  of  drinking  the  whiskey,"  mur- 
mured Harry.  "If  the  barrel  wasn't  his,  he  can  claim 
the  Indians  did  it,  you  know." 

"Well,  we  can  tell  him  about  the  first  hole,  all  right," 
scolded  the  indignant  Terry.  "And  so  can  other 
people." 

"Now  for  the  head,"  invited  Harry. 

The  hat  had  been  returned  to  Ike,  who  eyed  the 
contents  doubtfully,  shook  them  over,  and  stowed  them 
in  his  pocket  with  a  scowl. 

"Six  bits  air  a  mighty  measley  sum  to  pay  for  the 
privilege  an'  eddication  o'  seein'  the  actual  head  o'  the 
biggest,  fiercest  Injun  who  ever  terrerized  the  West 
till  he  tuk  arter  the  wrong  pusson,  but  I'll  show  him 
to  you,  jest  the  same." 


THE  TRAIL  GROWS  LIVELY  95 

So  saying,  Ike  reached  into  the  barrel,  and  extract- 
ing his  prize,  held  it  up.  Harry  nudged  Terry; 
staring,  Terry  saw,  recognized,  gasped. 

"Thunder  Horse!     Aw " 

"Do  you  know,  I  kind  of  expected  that,"  alleged 
Harry.  "I  kind  of  felt  it  was  coming." 

The  face  of  the  severed  head  was  assuredly  the 
hideous  face  of  Thunder  Horse,  the  drunken  Kiowa; 
and  the  hair  was  the  Kiowa's  hair. 

"Thunder  Horse  died  because  of  his  leg,  and  Ike 
found  him  and  cut  off  his  head !"  scoffed  Terry.  "I'm 
going  straight  to  the  wagon  and  show  the  whole  thing 
up.  We'll  make  Ike  look  sick — that  old  blow  and  his 
barrel  and  his  'big-chief  head!" 

"No,"  opposed  Harry.  "Wait.  There's  no  use  in 
showing  Ike  up  now.  We'll  save  our  ammunition." 

"Well,  I'm  mighty  glad  old  Thunder  Horse  is  gone, 
anyhow,"  observed  Terry,  as  they  went  back  to  the 
cart.  "He  was  bad  medicine." 

The  Ohio  party  were  starting  on.  So  the  boys  from 
the  Big  Blue  put  Duke  and  Jenny  to  work  again  and 
fell  in  with  the  procession  wending  broad  way  up  the 
shallow  valley  of  the  Republican. 

Once  every  day  the  procession  opened  to  give  pass- 
age to  the  stages  westward  bound  on  the  trail ;  and  at 
last  stages  eastward  bound,  returning  to  Leavenworth, 
were  met.  They  were  assailed  with  all  kinds  of  ques- 
tions, but  they  brought  little  news  of  importance,  and 
apparently  little  gold. 

Many  people  eastward  bound,  ahorse  or  afoot,  also 
were  met. 


96      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Turn  back,  every  one  of  you,"  they  advised. 
"Folks  are  going  out  faster'n  they're  coming  in. 
Some  of  'em  don't  even  stop  to  unhitch  their  teams. 
Picks  and  spades  are  offered  at  fifteen  cents  apiece,  and 
no  takers,  and  the  man  who  makes  fifty  cents  a  day 
is  lucky." 

"Auraria's  burned  and  we've  hanged  the  boomers," 
proclaimed  another  squad. 

And  another  squad,  trudging  along,  warned  earn- 
estly : 

"Look  out  for  the  man  with  buckskin  patches  on 
his  breeches.  He's  the  leader  of  the  gang  who's  rob- 
bing the  pilgrims.  Remember  the  buckskin  patches. 
There's  no  elephant — only  jackasses." 

Not  few  in  the  procession  did  turn  back,  especially 
when  the  water  and  fuel  began  to  fail,  as  wider  and 
more  bare  and  sandy  the  valley  became.  Soon  there 
were  several  marches  without  water  at  all,  for  the 
river  had  sunk  into  the  sand.  The  choking  dust  floated 
high,  the  sun  was  burning  hot.  The  majority  of  the 
animals  were  sore-footed,  from  the  gravel  and  cactus 
and  brush.  Duke,  who  had  been  behaving  nobly, 
seemed  to  have  strained  his  shoulder  and  was  limping. 
Jenny  was  gaunter  than  ever. 

The  trail  had  veered  to  the  southwest — to  strike,  it 
was  reported,  some  creeks,  and  Cherry  Creek  itself. 

"That's  another  trail  yonder  to  the  south,  isn't  it?" 
spoke  Harry,  one  morning. 

"Yes ;  and  wagons  on  it !"  exclaimed  Terry.  "Maybe 
it's  the  Smoky  Hill  trail,  or  the  people  from  the  Santa 
Fe  trail" 


THE  TRAIL  GROWS  LIVELY  97 

The  "Root  Hog  or  Die"  professor,  who  tramped 
with  them  while  his  oxen  followed  of  their  own  ac- 
cord, consulted  a  map  that  he  carried. 

"I  think  they  must  be  from  the  Smoky  Hill  route," 
he  said. 

The  two  lines  of  travel  approached  each  other,  and 
at  evening  were  about  to  join.  Terry  uttered  a  cheer. 

"I  see  the  wheel-barrow  man !"  he  cried.  "They're 
the  Smoky  Hill  crowd,  all  right." 

"They  look  pretty  well  used  up,"  remarked  Harry. 
"Must  have  had  had  a  hard  trip." 

The  wheel-barrow  man,  pushing  bravely,  was  in  the 
van.  His  barrow  wobbled,  and  the  wheel  was  rein- 
forced with  rawhide,  but  he  himself  was  as  cheery  as 
ever  when  the  Big  Blue  outfit  welcomed  him. 

"Yes,  terrible  hard  trip,"  he  acknowledged.  "Some 
of  us  near  died  with  thirst,  and  I  hear  tell  that  several 
wagons  were  burnt  for  fuel,  so's  to  cook  food  and 
keep  the  folks  from  starving.  But  those  of  us  who 
are  left  are  still  going." 

"Same  here,"  asserted  Harry.  "How  far  to  the 
mountains,  do  you  reckon?" 

"Better  than  a  hundred  miles,  but  we'll  get  there." 

The  next  day  the  pilgrims  from  the  Smoky  Hill 
trail  and  the  pilgrims  from  the  Republican  trail  trav- 
eled on  together,  with  every  eye  eagerly  set  ahead,  for 
the  first  sight  of  the  mountains. 

"I  see  'em!     Hooray! 

"There's  the  land  o'  gold,  boys!" 

"Those  are  the  Rocky  Mountains!  We're  almost 
through." 


98      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"They're  awful  small  for  their  size,  aren't  they?" 
quavered  a  woman. 

They  did  appear  so.  They  were  like  a  band  of  low 
hummocky  clouds  in  the  western  horizon.  But  the  next 
morning,  when  the  outfits  climbed  over  a  gravelly 
ridge  that  grew  a  few  pines,  one  after  another  they 
cheered  joyfully  again.  Hats  were  waved,  sunbon- 
nets  were  flourished.  The  mountains  seemed  much 
closer — they  loomed  grandly  in  a  semi-circle  from 
south  to  north;  their  crests  were  white,  their  slopes 
were  green  and  gray. 

"Where's  Pike's  Peak?" 

Everybody  wanted  to  know  that.  The  "Root  Hog 
or  Die"  professor  consulted  his  map,  for  information. 

"I  rather  think  Pike's  Peak  is  the  last  peak  we  see, 
to  the  south,"  he  mused.  "That  to  the  far  north  is 
called  Long's  Peak." 

"Where  are  the  diggin's,  then?" 

"Well,  they're  somewhere  in  between." 

From  the  piny  ridge  the  route  descended  along  the 
side  of  a  brushy  valley  pleasantly  dotted  with  cotton- 
woods  and  other  leafy  trees,  and  struck  the  head  of 
a  creek  course — and  presently  another  trail  on  which, 
from  the  south,  still  other  pilgrim  outfits  were  has- 
tening northward  at  best  speed. 

Where  the  trail  from  the  east  joined  with  this  sec- 
ond trail  from  the  south  a  signboard  faced,  pointing 
north,  with  the  words:  "Santa  Fe-Salt  Lake  Trail. 
Cherry  Creek  Diggin's,  70  m." 

"Cherry  Creek  at  last!"  affirmed  Harry,  that  eve- 
ning. "Whew,  but  that  mountain  air  tastes  good !" 


THE  TRAIL  GROWS  LIVELY  99 

Now  this  combined  trail  on  northwest  to  the  dig- 
gin's  was  a  well-traveled  trail  indeed,  deep  with  sand 
and  dust.  Occasionally  it  dipped  into  the  creek  bed, 
which  in  places  was  wide  enough  and  dry  enough  for 
the  teams.  The  mountains  were  on  the  left — distant 
thirty  miles,  declared  the  professor,  although  the  green- 
horns declared  they  were  within  a  short  walk.  High 
rolling  plains  were  on  the  right. 

A  few  prospectors  were  encountered,  already  dig- 
ging and  washing  in  the  creek,  or  scouting  about. 
From  the  last  night's  camp  a  little  bevy  of  lights  could 
be  seen,  ahead — the  diggin's  at  the  mouth  of  the  creek ! 
During  the  next  morning 

"There's  the  river !  There's  the  Platte !"  announced 
voices,  indicating  a  line  of  cotton  woods  before. 

Wagons  coming  down  from  the  north,  by  the  Platte 
trail,  also  could  be  seen,  making  for  a  collection  of 
tents  and  huts  gathered  near  where  the  Cherry  Creek 
apparently  emptied  into  the  Platte. 

Much  excitement  reigned  throughout  the  procession. 
The  wheel-barrow  man  already  had  trundled  ahead. 
Duke  limped  gamely,  and  Jenny  kept  her  long  ears 
pricked  forward.  Now  it  was  every  outfit  for  itself, 
in  order  to  secure  the  best  location  and  get  to  work. 

In  mid-afternoon  the  trail  forked,  and  signs  di- 
rected :  "To  the  left  for  Auraria,  the  coming  metropo- 
lis," and  "Straight  ahead  for  Denver  City."  Men  were 
stationed  here,  beseeching  the  pilgrims  to  settle  in  Au- 
raria, or  in  Denver,  and  make  their  fortunes.  The 
men  were  red-faced  and  perspiring  and  earnest. 

Auraria  was  the  older,  and  on  the  mountain  side  of 


ioo      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

the  creek — had  the  newspaper !  Denver  was  the  better 
built,  and  the  more  enterprising,  was  on  the  trail  side 
of  the  creek  and  had  the  stage  office. 

"What'll  we  do,  Harry?"  panted  Terry,  as  mo- 
mentarily the  Limited  halted,  held  by  the  confused 
press  in  front,  bombarded  and  undecided. 

"Keep  agoing  straight  ahead,"  said  Harry.  "That's 
been  our  program.  If  we  don't  like  Denver  we  can 
cross  to  Auraria,  but  blamed  if  I  can  see  much  differ- 
ence between  'em." 

And  that  was  true.  On  the  flat  ground  along  the 
shallow  Cherry  Creek  lay  sprawled  an  ugly  collection 
of  log  huts  and  dingy  tents  and  Indian  tepees  of  buf- 
falo hides,  with  people  moving  busily  among  them,  and 
a  host  of  emigrant  wagons  and  animals  and  camps  on 
the  outskirts.  All  the  flat  on  both  sides  of  the  creek 
was  dingy  and  dusty,  with  the  brush  crushed  down  or 
gleaned  clean  for  forage  and  fuel. 

East  stretched  the  wide  plains ;  west  was  the  cotton- 
wood  timber  marking  the  Platte  River,  and  beyond  the 
river,  some  distance,  were  bare  hills,  grayish  and  red- 
dish, and  behind  them  the  real  mountains,  rising  rocky 
and  high  until  their  snow  crests  gleamed  against  the 
sky. 

Distant,  a  line  of  gold-seekers  with  wagons  and  with 
packs  seemed  to  be  traveling  into  the  mountains;  and 
down  along  the  Platte  were  entering  Denver,  from  the 
north,  other  gold-seekers,  to  take  their  places. 

A  hum  of  voices  welled,  filling  the  air  with  excite- 
ment. 

"Shucks!    Is  this  all  there  is?"  complained  Terry. 


THE  TRAIL  GROWS  LIVELY          101 


"I  don't  see  any  city.  The  wHoJe  thing/  isn't  as  tig  as 
Manhattan,  even." 

"And  not  half  as  good-looking/'  added  Harry. 

But  there  was  not  much  space  for  halting  to  criti- 
cize. The  procession  was  pressing  on,  jostling,  crowd- 
ing —  spreading  out,  some  of  it  to  find  camping  spots 
at  once,  some  to  drive  farther  on.  With  the  cart 
creaking,  and  Duke  limping  badly,  Jenny  stumbling 
and  grunting,  and  Shep,  dusty  and  burry,  pacing  sob- 
erly at  the  rear,  the  Pike's  Peak  Limited  entered  Den- 
ver City. 

"Hope  we  see  Sol,"  ventured  Harry,  as  they  thread- 
ed their  way  among  the  first  tents,  and  several  roofless 
cabins,  located  out  where  signs  stuck  in  the  bare  ground 
proclaimed  :  "Denver  City  Town  Co.  Fine  building 
lots  for  sale." 

In  front  of  the  tent  flaps,  and  in  the  cabin  doorways, 
men  in  boots,  with  trousers  tucked  in,  and  in  flannel 
shirts,  red  or  blue,  were  sitting,  gazing  abroad,  but  none 
of  these  was  Sol. 

Further  along,  the  road  took  on  the  semblance  of  a 
street  —  thronged  with  emigrants;  booted,  whiskered 
men  in  their  flannel  shirts,  and  wearing  revolvers  ;  In- 
dians, Mexicans,  oxen,  and  dogs. 

"I  don't  see  Sol,  though,"  commented  Terry,  search- 
ing about  among  those  faces,  every  one  of  which  was 
strange  to  him. 

"No,  but  I  see  plenty  of  men  with  buckskin  patches 
on  their  breeches,"  answered  Harry.  "They're  the  old- 
timers,  I  reckon.  Wonder  if  the  name  of  any  of  'em 
is  Russell." 


102      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

The  passaged  the  half -buffalo  and  the  yellow  mule 
hitched' "tgftdem,*  attracted  considerable  attention,  and 
a  volley  of  bantering  remarks.  But  a  chorus  of  whoops 
and  a  general  rush  made  Harry  and  Terry  glance  be- 
hind. 

"A  stage  is  coming.  We'd  better  get  out  of  the  way, 
hadn't  we  ?"  suggested  Terry. 

"Right-o!"  And  Harry,  driving,  drew  aside  to  a 
clear  place  opposite  a  long  one-story  canvas-roofed 
log  building  which  announced :  "Denver  House."  This 
was  the  hotel. 

The  stage  jingled  up ;  and  while  the  passengers  piled 
out  was  surrounded  by  a  jostling  crowd  of  whiskered, 
red-shirted  and  blue-shirted  and  buckskin-shirted  (as 
well  as  buckskin-patched)  residents. 

As  it  rolled  away  again,  to  put  up  for  the  night, 
Terry  heard  himself  and  Harry  hailed  by  a  familiar 
voice,  at  last. 

"Well,  I  declare!  Got  through,  did  you — buffalo 
and  mule  and  dog  and  all!  What  kind  of  a  trip  did 
you  have?" 


CHAPTER   IX 

NOW  WHERE  IS  THE  "ELEPHANT"? 

IT  was  Journalist  Villard,  tanned  and  whiskered, 
and  already  boeted  and  shirted  and  armed  like  the  rest 
of  the  inhabitants.  He  shook  hands  vigorously  with 
them. 

"Pretty  fair,"  replied  Harry.  "We've  just  got  in. 
You  seem  to  be  the  only  person  we  know  here." 

"I  won't  be  that  only  person  long,"  laughed  Mr. 
Villard.  "The  ends  of  the  world  are  gathering  here 
at  the  rate  of  a  thousand  a  day.  Why,  by  that  very 
stage  arrived  a  banker  I  used  to  know  well  in  Cin- 
cinnati, and  another  friend  at  whose  house  in  New 
York  I've  often  eaten  dinner.  But  the  reason  I  met 
the  stage  was  that  I  rather  expected  to  find  in  it 
Horace  Greeley  and  A.  D.  Richardson.  They're  on 
the  way." 

"Not  Horace  Greeley  of  the  New  York  Tribune?" 
queried  Harry,  as  if  astonished. 

"Yes;  that's  the  Greeley.  Mr.  Richardson  repre- 
sents the  Boston  Journal  and  some  other  Eastern 
papers.  All  we  newspaper  fellows  will  write  the  truth 
about  the  gold  fields." 

"How  near  is  the  gold?"  eagerly  asked  Terry. 
103 


104      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Can  you  show  us  where  to  dig?     Have  you  dug?" 

"Not  very  much.  Not  for  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  day 
— and  that's  the  most  anybody  is  getting  hereabouts. 
The  whole  creek  bed  is  being  turned  upside  down.  But 
you  see  that  line  of  pilgrims  trailing  out  into  the  moun- 
tains, west  across  the  Platte?" 

"Yes." 

"That's  a  rush  to  some  new  diggin's.  They're  fol- 
lowing a  new  strike.  It's  reported  on  good  authority 
that  a  Georgian  named  John  Gregory  has  found  the 
mother  vein,  as  they  call  it,  about  forty  miles  out. 
It's  a  pound-a-day  strike,  according  to  the  say,  and 
the  gold  down  below  has  been  washed  from  that  vein. 
The  people  are  flocking  in  by  the  five  hundred  at  a 
time.  I  haven't  been  up  there  myself  yet,  but  I  hope 
the  news  is  true.  Another  month  and  we'd  have  had 
a  riot  in  these  Cherry  Creek  diggin's.  As  it  is,  about 
half  the  in-comers  have  pulled  out  for  California,  or 
home — and  there's  been  talk  of  hanging  D.  C.  Oakes, 
who  issued  a  Tike's  Peak  Guide'  last  winter,  and 
Editor  Byers,  of  the  News" 

"Are  those  new  diggin's  on  the  Platte?"  asked 
Harry,  keenly. 

"No.  There're  up  Clear  Creek,  and  nowhere  near 
the  Platte." 

"Oh,  jiminy!"  sighed  Terry.  "Aren't  there  mines 
closer  than  that?  My  father  was  out  here  last  sum- 
mer and  found  one  just  a  few  miles  away,  up  the 
Platte  River." 

"A  Fifty-eighter,  is  he?  Is  he  here  now,  and 
where's  his  mine?" 


NOW  WHERE  IS  THE  "ELEPHANT"?    105 

"No,  sir;  he  came  home  sick,  at  Christmas;  and  he 
doesn't  remember.  But  he  had  some  dust." 

"Those  early  claims  didn't  amount  to  much,  as  I 
understand,"  stated  Mr.  Villard.  "That's  what  has 
fooled  the  people." 

"Are  any  of  the  Russell  brothers  hereabouts  ?"  asked 
Harry. 

"The  original  boomers?  Yes,  they're  all  here  now. 
Dr.  Levi  Russell  has  spent  the  winter  here ;  but  Green 
Russell  and  J.  Oliver  have  just  got  in  from  Georgia 
with  another  party  of  some  one  hundred  and  fifty. 
You'll  find  them  over  at  Auraria,  though.  You  know, 
Green  Russell  located  Auraria  and  named  it  for  his 
home  town  in  Georgia.  The  Aurarians  and  Denver- 
ites  don't  mix  much,  except  when  the  stage  comes. 
The  Russells  will  likely  be  at  the  Eldorado  Hotel  this 
evening." 

"And  where's  Archie  Smith?  Did  you  bring  him 
through  all  right?" 

"Yes.  We  landed  him  here.  But  I  think  he's  joined 
the  rush  into  the  mountains.  What  are  you  boys  in- 
tending to  do  now  ?  Camp  and  refit,  I  suppose,  before 
you  look  for  your  mine.  Which  are  you  going  to  be — 
Denverites  or  Aurarians?" 

"Both,"  laughed  Harry.  "But  Auraria's  flying  the 
United  States  flag,  I  see." 

"That's  over  their  hotel,  the  Eldorado.  Mrs.  Murat 
made  it.  Her  husband  claims  to  be  an  Italian  count. 
He  does  barbering,  and  she  takes  in  washing — and 
together,  at  the  prices  they  charge,  they're  getting  rich 
a  great  deal  faster  than  most  of  these  gold-seekers. 


io6      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

Auraria's  proud  of  that  flag,  because  it's  the  only  one 
in  the  state.  Denver  pretends  to  poke  fun  at  it,  and 
says  it's  a  laundry  sign,  manufactured  from  old  red 
and  blue  shirts  and  Mrs.  Murat's  white  petticoat." 

"What  state?"  demanded  Harry. 

"The  new  State  of  Jefferson — the  future  new  state. 
Things  move  fast  out  here.  A  convention  was  held 
last  month  by  the  miners,  to  organize  for  another  con- 
vention on  June  8  when  a  state  constitution  will  be 
adopted  and  sent  to  Congress.  Some  people  wanted 
the  state  named  Pike's  Peak.  You'll  see  the  conven- 
tion call  in  the  Rocky  Mountain  News.  Ah !"  and 

Mr.  Villard  gazed  aside.  "There's  a  man  I  ought  to 
talk  with.  Good-bye;  meet  you  later,  I  hope." 

"I  don't  believe  we'll  wait  for  that  convention,"  pro- 
posed Harry.  "And  I  don't  believe  we  ought  to  put 
in  much  time  hunting  for  your  father's  mine.  We'll 
get  right  into  the  new  diggin's  before  every  spot's 
taken."  Harry  evidently  was  catching  the  fever. 
"First,  though " 

"Paper?  Rocky  Mountain  News!  Fresh  off  the 
press!  Buy  a  paper,  Mister?  Tell  you  all  about  the 
latest  strikes,  and  where  to  go." 

He  was  very  slim,  tall  young  man  whose  trousers 
were  finished  off  below  the  knees  with  gunny  sacking, 
in  order  to  cover  his  long  legs. 

"Yes.  Let  me  have  one,"  responded  Harry.  And 
added,  to  Terry,  while  handing  out  a  dime:  "That'll 
give  us  the  quickest  information." 

The  tall  slim  young  man  was  turning  the  dime  over 
and  over  in  his  palm. 


NOW  WHERE  IS  THE  "ELEPHANT"?    107 

"No  good,"  he  said.  "Nothing  less  than  a  quarter 
goes,  out  here." 

"But  they  told  us  picks  and  spades  are  fifteen  cents." 

"In  trade,  maybe.  But  these  papers  are  a  quarter, 
Mister.  Two  bits.  That's  the  smallest  change  in  camp. 
Dust  or  coin." 

"Hum !"  grunted  Harry,  producing  a  quarter.  He 
scratched  his  nose  as  he  glanced  at  the  paper.  "At 
this  rate  we'll  soon  be  busted." 

The  paper  was  entitled  "Rocky  Mountain  News, 
Cherry  Creek,  K.  T." — the  initials  standing,  of  course, 
for  Kansas  Territory.  W.  N.  Byers  was  proprietor. 
It  was  printed  on  a  coarse  brownish  paper — seemed  to 
be  full  of  items  about  gold  being  brought  in  from 
"gulches" — a  number  of  advertisements  and  announce- 
ments— had  the  convention  call 

"We'll  read  it  in  camp,"  quoth  Harry.  "Gwan, 
Duke!  Jenny!  Haw!" 

"Want  to  sell  that  buffalo,  stranger?"  interrupted 
another  voice. 

This  man  was  a  square,  stubbly  faced,  red-faced  and 
red-haired  individual,  in  a  faded  cotton  shirt  and  old 
army  trousers  belted  at  the  waist  with  a  rope. 

"Why — I  don't  know,"  replied  Harry,  reflectively, 
scratching  his  nose. 

The  man  walked  around  Duke,  scrutinizing  him. 

"He's  got  a  buckskin  patch  on.  We'd  better  watch 
out,"  whispered  Terry,  to  his  partner.  So  he  had : 
the  whole  seat  of  his  trousers  was  buckskin  coarsely 
stitched  in  place. 

"Half  the  men  in  camp  have  buckskin  or  other 


lo8      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

patches/'  chuckled  Harry.     "That  gives  me  an  idea." 

"Offer  you  $25,  dust,  stranger,"  abruptly  spoke 
the  man.  "He's  lame.  You  can't  use  him.  He'll  be 
no  good  in  the  diggin's." 

" What'll  you  do  with  him,  then  ?"  questioned  Harry. 

"Put  him  in  my  show.  He  won't  have  to  work. 
And  he's  too  tough  for  butchering.  But  he'll  be  all 
right  on  exhibition." 

"Hum !"  mused  Harry.  "My  partner  and  I'll  talk 
it  over.  We're  going  to  camp  over  night  before  go- 
ing on." 

"If  you're  aiming  for  the  mountains,  you'll  have 
to  leave  him,  anyway.  The  trail  is  straight  up — • 
takes  twenty  oxen  to  haul  half  a  ton.  I'll  give  you 
$35,  dust,  for  buffalo  and  cart.  I'll  exhibit  'em  both." 

"We'll  talk  it  over,"  repeated  Harry. 

"So  long,  then.  You  can  find  me.  Name  of 
Reilly." 

"What  do  you  say,  Terry?"  queried  Harry,  as  they 
continued  on  to  a  camping  spot.  "Duke's  yours." 

"No,  he's  part  of  the  outfit.  We're  in  together, 
aren't  we?  But  I'd  hate  to  sell  him  unless  he'll  be 
treated  well.  Maybe  we  ought  to  sell  him;  he's  lame. 
Haven't  we  any  money  left  ?" 

"Mighty  little.  And  we're  nearly  out  of  grub,  too. 
If  newspapers  are  twenty-five  cents  each,  what' 11  a 
sack  of  flour  cost?  I  was  thinking  of  a  shave  and  a 

hair-cut,  but !  I'll  shave  myself  and  we'll  cut 

each  other's  hair." 

"If  that  mine  is  somewhere  around  yet,  we  may 
not  have  to  sell  him." 


NOW  WHERE  IS  THE  "ELEPHANT"?     109 

"And  we'll  need  the  cart  to  pack  our  gold  in,"  added 
Harry.  "But  Duke  and  the  cart  wouldn't  be  much 
good  up  in  the  mountains,  I  should  think." 

They  were  fortunate  in  finding  a  camping  place, 
with  wood  and  water,  near  the  mouth  of  Cherry  Creek, 
at  the  Platte,  and  there  tied  Duke  and  Jenny  out.  The 
first  thing  to  do  was  to  wash — the  next  thing  to  write 
home — and  the  next,  to  have  an  early  supper. 

"We'll  go  back  in  before  the  post-office  closes,  look 
for  some  of  the  Russells,  and  do  all  that  we  can ;  and 
be  ready  to  start  right  along  somewhere  or  other  in 
the  morning." 

"That's  it,"  agreed  Terry.  "Whew,  but  there  must 
be  a  lot  of  people  hunting  gold.  Wonder  if  all  of 
those  on  that  trail  are  bound  for  the  Gregory  diggings ! 
We'll  have  to  hurry."  For  he  was  getting  the  fever, 
too. 

"We  will,"  promised  Harry. 

When  they  had  left  Shep  on  guard  and  had  hastened 
back  into  Denver,  a  line  of  men  extended  for  one  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  window  in  the  stage  office  labeled 
"Letter  Express."  Harry  stood  in  the  line  until  al- 
most sunset.  He  returned  to  Terry  with  puzzled  face. 

"We  got  a  letter,  all  right,  but  it  cost  twenty-five 
cents  extra,  and  the  one  I  mailed  cost  another  twenty- 
five  cents,  just  up  to  Fort  Laramie  on  the  North  Platte. 
Then  the  government  takes  it  on.  There's  only  a 
private  express  out  of  here,  for  mail,  and  it's  doing 
a  great  business." 

However,  that  letter  from  the  Big  Blue  was  worth 
the  twenty-five  cents. 


no      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

Now,  with  the  approach  of  night,  Denver  and  Au- 
raria,  its  neighbor,  were  lively.  The  Denver  House 
hotel  seemed  to  be  devoted  mainly  to  drinking  and 
gambling.  The  long  bar  was  crowded  with  all  sorts 
of  people;  and  behind  the  card  tables  sat  men,  some 
of  them  in  white  silk  shirts  and  black  broadcloth  suits, 
urging  bets. 

Across  the  street  was  a  collection  of  Indian  tepees — 
an  Arapahoe  village,  according  to  report.  The  women 
and  children  stayed  among  the  lodges,  but  their  hus- 
bands and  fathers  strolled  everywhere,  in  blankets  and 
buffalo  robes,  saying  little  and  seeing  much. 

"There's  Chief  Little  Raven— and  Left  Hand,  too !" 
exclaimed  Terry.  "Wait  a  second.  I'm  going  to  ask 
them  about  Thunder  Horse." 

Little  Raven  and  Left  Hand  soberly  shook  hands 
with  their  former  acquaintances. 

"Thunder  Horse  he  dead  from  his  leg,"  explained 
Left  Hand.  "Dog  bite  poison  him — mebbe  he  poison 
dog.  Whiskey  bad,  make  him  fool.  One  day  he  die ; 
the  two  foolish  men  who  run  away  in  that  wagon 
take  him  on  in  wagon  and  sell  him  same  day  to  one 
big-mouth  man  near  the  Republican  trail.  Now  his 
head  is  in  Aurary.  You  want  to  see  ?" 

"Pine  Knot  Ike's  come!"  asserted  Terry,  as  he  and 
Harry  proceeded  to  Auraria,  whither  they  were  bound 
anyway.  "I  don't  want  to  see  him." 

"I'd  a  heap  rather  see  Sol,"  answered  Harry.  "But 
we'll  try  to  see  the  Russells.  That's  important." 

The  creek  was  so  nearly  dry  that  several  tents  and 
log  shacks  had  been  placed  in  its  sandy  bed.  The 


NOW  WHERE  IS  THE  "ELEPHANT"?    in 

banks  were  about  four  feet  high  here,  and  a  shaky 
log  foot-bridge  crossed  from  town  to  town.  , 

Auraria  was  larger  than  Denver  City,  but  the  build- 
ings were  rougher,  whereas  the  Denver  City  logs  had 
been  surfaced  and  trimmed.  Still,  Auraria  seemed  to 
have  the  principal  store  building,  as  yet — a  story  and 
a  half  high,  with  a  lumber  roof.  The  upper  floor  was 
occupied  by  the  Rocky  Mountain  News.  Through  the 
glass  window  the  printers  might  be  seen  setting  type. 
Under  them  was  a  noisy  saloon. 

Miners,  emigrants,  Mexicans,  Indians — flannel 
shirts,  heavy  boots,  moccasins,  much  whiskers  and 
long  hair:  in  this  respect  the  Auraria  out  of  doors 
was  like  the  Denver  out  of  doors. 

"I  hear  Ike,"  said  Terry. 

At  the  corner  just  beyond  the  Eldorado  Hotel  some- 
body stationed  beside  a  flaring  pitchy  torch  was  de- 
claiming in  a  loud  voice,  before  a  large  tent.  But  it 
wasn't  Pine  Knot  Ike.  It  was  the  red-headed  Mr. 
Reilly.  On  a  placard  across  the  tent  front  was  the 
announcement,  rudely  charcoaled: 

"SEE  IT!    SEE  IT!    SEE  IT! 
The  Ferocious  Head  of  Chief  Bloody  Knife! 

Cannibal  of  the  Plains! 

Slain  in  Hand-to-Hand  Conflict  by  the  Noted 

Frontiersman  Black  Panther! 

"Admission  5oc  gold." 

Evidently  this  was  the  show  to  which  Mr.  Reilly 
had  referred.  Standing  on  a  barrel,  and  occasionally 


H2      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

coughing  from  the  smoke  of  the  torch  fastened  to  an 
upright  against  the  barrel,  he  strenuously  invited  the 
public  inside.  He  accepted  the  price,  and  waved  each 
patron  to  pass  within.  However,  business  was  not  at 
all  brisk ;  and  suddenly  catching  the  eye  of  Harry,  he 
beckoned. 

"Go  inside,  gentlemen,"  he  bade.  "It's  my  treat. 
Walk  in;  view  the  ferocious  cannibal  head  and  the 
equally  ferocious  scout  who  cut  it  off  after  killing  the 
wearer  of  it." 

"Aw !"  attempted  Terry;  but  Harry,  with  a 

nudge,  interrupted  him. 

"Go  on  in,  Terry.  I'll  talk  with  Mr.  Reilly  a 
minute." 

The  tent  contained  several  whiskered,  booted  miners 
and  emigrants,  gazing  at  the  hideous  head  of  Thunder 
Horse,  also  on  a  barrel — Ike's  barrel — and  on  a  stool 
beside  the  barrel  was  seated  Ike  himself,  alias  the 
"noted  frontiersman,  Black  Panther."  Ike's  thick 
black  hair  and  whiskers  were  shaggier  than  ever.  He 
was  attired  in  the  same  greasy  slouch  hat,  but  further- 
more in  a  shabby,  red-flannel-trimmed  buckskin  shirt 
whose  gaudy  fringes  fell  to  his  boot-tops.  Around  his 
waist  were  belted  two  revolvers  and  a  butcher-knife, 
and  against  his  knees  rested  a  battered,  large-muzzled 
yager  or  smooth-bore  musket — fortunately  harmless 
by  reason  of  lacking  a  trigger. 

From  amidst  his  hair  and  whiskers  Ike  stared  be- 
fore him  fiercely  and  fixedly,  occasionally  slowly 
blinking  in  the  light  of  a  tallow  candle  lantern. 

It  all  was  so  perfectly  absurd  that — but  hold  on! 


NOW  WHERE  IS  THE  "ELEPHANT"?    113 

Look  out!  Bang!  Bang!  Without  a  word  a  red- 
shirted  miner  who  had  been  intently  gazing  and  sway- 
ing as  if  drunk  had  whipped  out  his  revolver  and  fired. 
At  the  first  shot,  away  spun  the  head,  and  simultane- 
ously with  the  second  shot  away,  uttering  a  loud  shout, 
had  dived  Black  Panther  the  noted  frontiersman — 
half  through  the  tent  and  half  under  the  tent,  disap- 
pearing while  almost  tumbling  the  canvas  on  top  of 
the  company.  He  was  gone  before  his  stool  had  ceased 
rolling. 

"Set  'em  up  ag'in!"  roared  the  red-shirted  miner. 
"Fetch  on  the  rest  o'  that  Injun !  Whoop-ee !  Whar's 
that  air  Panther  man?  I  want  to  show  him  some 
shootin' !  I'm  an  Injun  killer  myself  from  Pike 
County,  Missoury!" 

Into  the  tent,  now  filled  with  shouts  and  laughter 
and  powder  smoke,  rushed  Mr.  Reilly,  close  followed 
by  the  alarmed  Harry.  The  miner's  friends  led  him 
out.  Mr.  Reilly  picked  up  the  head,  which,  weathered 
as  hard  and  as  dry  as  a  mummy's  head,  now  was 
drilled  right  through  from  nose  to  back  of  skull — 
which  did  not  improve  its  face  any.  But  Mr.  Reilly 
seemed  delighted. 

"That  bullet  hole's  the  best  thing  yet,"  he  declared. 
"I'll  have  to  change  the  name  of  the  scout  to  Dead- 
Shot  Bill.  But  wait  till  I  ketch  that  other  man — the 
measley  rabbit,  ripping  my  tent  to  pieces  and  disgrac- 
ing the  clothes  I  lent  him.  How'd  one  of  you  boys 
like  to  be  Dead-Shot  Bill,  for  a  spell?" 

"Nope,  thank  you,"  laughed  Harry.  "Come  on, 
Terry.  We've  got  more  business  to  'tend  to." 


ii4      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Well,  we  can  sell  him  the  cart  and  Duke  for  $50," 
informed  Harry,  outside.  "He's  getting  together  a 
show.  It  will  be  a  soft  job  for  Duke ;  no  heavy  haul- 
ing, just  standing  'round  and  eating  and  looking  wild." 

"I  wouldn't  sell  him  Duke  if  Ike's  to  be  in  the 
show,  too,"  declared  Terry. 

"Ike,"  assured  Harry,  "will  never  be  back.  He's 
probably  running  yet.  And  maybe  we  won't  have  to 
sell  Duke.  Now  for  the  Russells,  anyway.  We'll  try 
the  Eldorado." 

But  they  were  relieved  from  entering  the  crowded 
Eldorado  by  encountering  Journalist  Villard  and  an- 
other man  just  stepping  out. 

"Ah!"  spoke  Mr.  Villard,  recognizing  them,  in  the 
dusk.  "If  you  wish  to  ask  Mr.  Green  Russell  anything, 
here  he  is." 

"Yes;  we  want  to  ask  him  if  he  remembers  a  man 
in  his  party  of  last  summer  by  the  name  of  Jones," 
said  Harry,  quickly,  for  it  was  apparent  that  Messrs. 
Villard  and  Russell  were  in  a  hurry. 

"I  shorely  do,"  responded  Mr.  Russell.  He  was  a 
broad-shouldered  man,  with  sparse  beard  and  long- 
pointed  moustache — had  a  cool  eye  and  a  deliberate 
speech. 

"He  is  this  boy's  father,"  continued  Harry.  "He 
came  home  with  some  dust  and  claimed  to  have  located 
a  mine  about  a  day's  travel  from  here,  on  the  Platte." 

"If  that  was  Fifty-eight,  'tain't  wuth  looking  after 
now,"  decided  Mr.  Russell.  "Too  close  in.  I  reckon 
it  was  yonder  whar  we  had  some  dry  diggin's  that 
we-all  worked  out,  'round  Placer  Camp." 


NOW  WHERE  IS  THE  "ELEPHANT"?    115 

"Captain  Russell's  an  old  miner,  you  know,"  put  in 
Mr.  Villard.  "He's  prospected  through  here  pretty 
closely,  since  he  came  out  first,  and  so  have  his  broth- 
ers ;  and  they're  convinced  that  the  only  paying  mines 
will  be  found  in  the  mountains." 

"Yes,"  drawled  Mr.  Russell.  "These  hyar  sandy 
creeks  peter  out.  You  have  to  get  up  higher,  into  the 
gravel  and  rock." 

He  and  Mr.  Villard  passed  on,  only  to  be  repeatedly 
stopped  and  questioned  in  their  progress. 

"That  settles  us,  I  think,"  said  Harry,  as  he  and 
Terry  turned  for  their  camp.  "We'll  pack  Jenny  and 
light  out  for  the  Gregory  Gulch  region.  We've  got  to 
have  a  mine  ready  for  your  father  when  he  comes,  so 
as  to  pay  him  back  the  'grub-stake.' ' 

"And  another  ready  for  George  to  work,"  reminded 
Terry.  "He'll  expect  an  elephant,  too." 

As  the  two  partners  recrossed  the  foot-bridge  into 
Denver  City,  night  had  cloaked  the  mountains  in  the 
west  and  had  enfolded  all  the  plains.  Down  here  lights 
flickered  in  tents  and  through  the  chinking  of  window- 
less,  floor-less  and  sometimes  roofless  cabins,  twinkled 
among  the  other  gold-seekers'  camps  spread  over  the 
broken  brush,  and  on  the  trails  in  north  and  south  and 
yonder  for  Gregory  Gulch. 


CHAPTER  X 

FORWARD  MARCH  TO  GREGORY  GULCH 

"WHAT'LL  we  do  with  all  our  gunny  sacks  ?"  queried 
Terry,  when  after  an  early  breakfast  they  drove  across 
for  Auraria,  to  deliver  Duke  and  the  cart  and  make 
their  purchases. 

"They  don't  weigh  much,  but  they  take  up  a  lot  of 
room.  I  have  a  scheme,  though,"  answered  Harry. 

Early  as  they  were,  the  emigrant  camps  on  the  plain, 
and  Denver  City  and  Auraria  in  the  midst,  were  astir : 
smoke  was  welling  from  camp-fires  and  chimneys, 
shouts  and  calls  arose  as  outfits  prepared  to  journey 
onward,  people  were  moving  busily,  and  the  procession 
beyond  the  Platte  was  wending  in  a  long  file  mountain- 
ward. 

Already  another  announcement  was  displayed  on  Mr. 
Reilly's  show  tent.  "Also  (it  said)  the  Only  Genuine 
Wild  Buffalo  Now  in  Captivity,  and  the  Identical 
Wagon  That  He  Drew  Across  the  Plains." 

Mr.  Reilly  was  working  on  the  first  announcement, 
to  make  it  read,  "The  Bullet-Pierced  Head  of  the 
Ferocious  Chief  Bloody  Knife,"  and  to  change  the 
frontiersman's  name  from  "Black  Panther"  to  "Dead- 
Shot  Bill." 

116 


GREGORY  GtJLCH  117 

"It's  a  pity  one  of  you  fellers  won't  hire  out  to  be 
my  scout,"  he  proffered.  "  Tother  one  might  take  in 
the  tickets  at  the  door.  I  got  the  shirt  and  weepon 
back  from  that  man  Ike,  but  he  won't  work  again. 
Anyhow,  you  can  unhitch  and  help  me  get  that  buffalo 
inside  this  tent,  out  of  sight.  We'll  tie  him  to  a  stake, 
and  roll  the  wagon  in  afterward." 

This  was  done,  after  the  flaps  had  been  thrown 
wide.  Duke  limped  in  rather  gladly,  was  stationed  at 
the  far  end  beside  the  head  of  the  late  Thunder  Horse, 
and  the  wagon,  unloaded  of  its  few  goods,  was  pushed 
and  pulled  to  another  position. 

"You  might  stay  with  Jenny  and  the  stuff,  while  I 
do  our  marketing,"  proposed  Harry  to  Terry,  as  he 
shouldered  the  big  roll  of  gunny  sacks,  for  some  mys- 
terious purpose,  and  lugged  it  away. 

He  disappeared  in  the  doorway  of  the  store  under 
the  News  office.  Jenny  hee-hawed  after  him.  She 
missed  him  and  Duke. 

Harry  soon  returned  jubilant,  without  the  sacks. 

"All  right.  We're  fixed,"  he  proclaimed.  "I  traded 
them  in  for  a  sack  of  dried  apples.  The  man  didn't 
appreciate  their  value,  at  first,  but  I  explained.  Value 
No.  i :  Most  of  the  cabins  hereabouts  have  only  dirt 
floors ;  the  sacking  will  be  fine  for  carpets  to  keep  the 
dust  down.  Value  No.  2 :  It  will  be  handy  for  cover- 
ing windows,  to  keep  out  the  wind.  Value  No.  3  :  It 
will  be  useful  to  patch  pants  with,  instead  of  buck- 
skin. Value  No.  4:  It  will  lengthen  pants — in  fact, 
the  pants  of  that  Rocky  Mountain  News  peddler  gave 
me  the  idea.  Value  No.  5 :  It  will  make  good  ticking 


ii8      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

for  straw  mattresses.  To  tell  the  truth,  it  is  so  valuable 
that  I  wouldn't  part  with  any  of  it  except  for  dried 
apples.  Now  we  can  have  pie !" 

They  bestowed  on  Duke  and  the  cart  a  friendly 
good-luck  slap,  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Reilly,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  the  store  with  Jenny.  The  purchases 
amounted  to  considerable.  First,  a  pack-saddle,  not 
brand  new,  but  of  ash  and  rawhide  in  excellent  con- 
dition; a  sack  of  flour,  the  sack  of  dried  apples,  a 
quarter  of  antelope  meat — the  only  cheap  meat,  at  four 
cents  a  pound;  five  pounds  of  coffee  (very  dear),  soda, 
salt,  sugar,  soap,  a  square  of  rawhide  for  soling  their 
boots,  two  miner's  pans  for  washing  out  the  gold, 
etc.,  etc. 

These,  with  the  picks  and  spades,  and  the  bedding, 
and  the  cooking  and  eating  utensils  made  quite  a  prob- 
lem. No  wonder  that  Jenny  groaned  when  the  saddle 
was  cinched  upon  her. 

However,  with  her  pack  bulging  on  either  side  and 
atop,  the  tools  projecting  and  the  cooking  utensils 
jingling,  she  accepted  her  fate,  and  stepping  in  cautious, 
top-heavy  fashion  submitted  to  being  headed  out  of 
town  into  the  trail  for  the  Platte  Fiver  crossing. 

Terry,  the  shot-gun  upon  his  shoulder,  and  Harry, 
shouldering  a  pick  and  spade  that  had  not  fitted  any- 
where, followed  close  after.  So  did  Shep,  who  car- 
ried nothing  but  his  shaggy  coat.  On  the  whole,  no 
one  could  deny  that  this  was  a  real  prospecting  outfit. 

"Forty  miles,  they  say,  to  those  Gregory  diggin's," 
remarked  Harry.  "Wonder  if  they  mean  forty  or 
four  hundred?  You  see  that  flat-top  mountain — the 


GREGORY  GULCH  119 

first  mountain  in  the  northwest?  How  far  do  you 
think  it  is?" 

"Five  miles,"  asserted  Terry. 

"Well,  it's  eighteen  miles !  They  call  it  Table  Moun- 
tain. That's  where  we  go  in.  So  when  a  fellow's 
looking  five  miles,  in  this  country,  he's  looking  eigh- 
teen, and  that  makes  forty  miles  about  one  hundred 
and  fifty." 

The  trail  was  becoming  crowded  as  other  outfits 
converged  from  the  right  and  left  for  the  Platte  cross- 
ing. It  was  a  procession  much  like  the  procession  on 
the  Pike's  Peak  trails — oxen,  horses,  mules,  cows, 
dogs,  wagons;  and  men,  women  and  children  either 
afoot  or  riding.  But  there  were  more  men  with  packs 
on  their  backs  and  more  animals  packed  like  Jenny. 

The  long-legged  Jenny,  her  pack  swaying  and 
jingling,  could  be  urged  past  the  slower  travelers — 
and  well  that  was,  for  ere  the  Platte  was  reached,  the 
wagons  in  the  procession  had  stopped.  They  formed 
a  waiting  line  several  hundred  yards  in  length.  Forg- 
ing to  the  front,  Terry  and  Harry  might  see  the  occa- 
sion. The  Platte  evidently  was  to  be  crossed  by  means 
of  a  flat-boat  ferry,  running  back  and  forth  on  a 
cable.  So  the  wagons  need  must  bide  their  turn. 

Harry  went  forward  to  investigate.  He  came  back 
with  a  rueful  face. 

"Two  dollars  and  a  half  for  a  wagon  outfit;  a  dollar 
and  a  half  for  our  outfit,"  he  reported.  "The  ferry's 
run  by  a  couple  of  Indian  traders  named  McGaa  and 
Smith.  Wonder  if  we  can't  ford." 

"Nary  ford,  this  time  o'  year,  strangers,"  reproved 


120      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

a  red-shirted  miner.  "See  those  wagons;  they'll  be 
out  o'  sight  by  noon !  Quicksand !" 

Several  wagons  foolishly  had  tried  to  ford;  and 
there  they  were,  abandoned,  some  of  them  even  only 
a  few  rods  out.  Already  just  the  tops  of  two  were 
visible  above  the  surface. 

"Guess  we  won't  risk  it,"  agreed  Terry. 

So  they  paid  their  fee,  and  squeezing  in  aboard  the 
ferry,  were  carried  across. 

The  trail  continued,  entering  amidst  low  rolling 
swells  of  sandy  gravel  and  sparse,  tufty  grass  and  stiff 
brush,  between  which  and  over  and  on  toiled  the  pil- 
grimage for  the  new  diggin's  where  one  John  Gregory 
and  others  were  harvesting  their  pound  of  gold  a  day. 
The  Gregory  claim  was  said  to  be  so  marvelously  rich 
and  yellow  that  no  strangers  had  been  permitted  to 
see  it. 

From  the  high  places  glimpses  were  given,  on  the 
right,  of  a  creek  course  below,  bordered  by  willows 
and  cottonwoods.  This  was  that  Clear  Creek  on  whose 
headwaters  in  the  mountains  the  Gregory  strike  had 
been  made.  But  the  landmark  of  Table  Mountain 
drew  near  so  gradually,  in  spite  of  the  haste  by  every- 
body, that  not  until  evening  did  it  loom  close  at  hand, 
shadowed  with  purple  and  rising  a  wall-like  six  hun- 
dred feet. 

Here  the  trail  ran  along  Clear  Creek  itself,  and  the 
procession  was  halting  for  night  camp,  to  water  and 
graze  the  animals  and  to  rest.  On  both  sides  of  the 
creek  prospectors  had  settled,  to  wash  out  gold;  but 
now  the  most  of  them  had  quit  work  and  in  front  of 


GREGORY  GULCH  121 

their  tents  and  bough  lean-tos  were  preparing  supper. 

"Better  stop  off,  boys,"  warned  a  hairy  miner,  who, 
squatting  over  a  little  fire,  was  deftly  cooking  flap- 
jacks— tossing  them  one  by  one  from  a  fry-pan  into 
the  air  and  catching  them  other  side  down.  "You 
can't  go  much  farther  till  mornin'.  There's  a  trail 
ahead  so  steep  your  mule' 11  have  to  turn  over  an'  prop 
herself  with  her  ears  to  keep  from  slidin'  backwards." 

"Sounds  like  good  advice,"  accepted  Harry.  "You 
going  on  in,  or  are  you  making  your  pile  here?" 

"Makin'  a  pile  o'  flap- jacks,  if  those  hungry  partners 
don't  eat  'em  faster'n  I  can  cook.  Yep,  we're  goin' 
on  somewhere,  if  this  creek  doesn't  pan  out  better. 
We've  been  followin'  the  gold  all  the  way  from  Pike's 
Peak  an'  the  Boilin'  Springs,  an'  the  best  diggin's  alluz 
seem  forty  miles  ahead." 

"Where  are  the  Boiling  Springs?"  asked  Terry. 
"Do  they  boil?" 

"Haven't  you  heard  o'  them  yet  ?  They're  down  at 
the  foot  o'  Pike's — tremenjous  good  water,  sody  an* 
iron  both  an'  a  lot  o'  other  minerals,  I  reckon ;  bubblin' 
an'  poppin',  an'  liable  to  cure  anything.  Sacred  to  the 
Injun,  they  were,  but  they're  powerful  good  for  white 
man." 

Jenny,  her  pack  removed,  took  a  hearty  roll,  and  a 
shake,  and  a  long  cold  drink,  and  fell  to  browsing. 
Terry  built  a  fire  and  prepared  camp;  Harry  got  out 
their  own  fry-pan  and  the  coffee  pot,  and  while  the 
water  in  the  pot  was  coming  to  a  boil  he  proceeded  to 
mix  batter. 

"What'll  it  be?"  queried  Terry,  hungry. 


122      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Flap-jacks." 

"I  didn't  know  you  could  make  them." 

"I  didn't,  either,  to  date.     But  I  can." 

The  first  flap- jack  stuck  confoundingly,  and  would 
not  turn  at  all  except  by  pieces.  So  it  burned,  and 
they  gave  it  to  Shep.  The  next  sailed  free  and  high, 
and  landed,  dough  side  down,  in  Terry's  lap.  Terry 
started  to  laugh,  but  changed  his  tune  and  frantically 
tore  the  hot  dough  loose,  then  executed  a  war-dance 
while  he  sucked  his  fingers. 

"Too  much  flap,"  commented  Harry.    "Once  again." 

This  flap- jack  flew  straight  for  his  face  and  he 
ducked  only  just  in  time  to  prevent  being  plastered. 

"Everything  goes  to  Shep,"  he  complained.  "I  can 
make  'em,  all  right,  but  I  haven't  the  knack  of  turning 


'em." 


"You  can  shout  there's  a  knack,  Mister,"  agreed  the 
other  flap- jack  performer,  who  now  had  stepped  over 
to  watch.  "You'll  not  be  a  true  miner  till  you  can 
toss  a  flap- jack  up  the  cabin  chimbley  an'  ketch  it 
again' outside,  turned  over.  Where  you  boys  from?" 

"Blue  River  Valley,  Kansas.  We  were  the  Pike's 
Peak  Limited;  now  we're  the  Extra  Limited,"  ex- 
plained Harry. 

"The  Russell  brothers  are  somewhar  in  this  hyar 
procession,  aren't  they?" 

"Are  they?    All  of  them?" 

"So  I  heard  tell.  They  left  Aurary  today,  for  the 
new  diggin's." 

"Are  the  Gregory  diggin's  full  of  gold  ?"  eagerly 
invited  Terry. 


GREGORY  GULCH  123 

"Mebbe  so,  for  people  who  know  how  to  find  it. 
Trouble  is,  this  country's  fuller  of  people  who  don't 
know  how  to  find  it." 

He  went  back  to  his  own  fire.  Harry  turned  the 
rest  of  the  flap-jacks  with  a  knife,  and  they  were  very 
good.  He  really  had  become  an  excellent  camp  cook. 

"Jiminy !  Wish  we  could  see  Sol  Judy  at  the  dig- 
gin's,"  voiced  Terry.  "He  knows  all  about  gold.  He 
was  in  California." 

"Yes,  Sol  knows  gold,  and  I  have  an  idea  we  don't," 
answered  Harry,  with  sober  reflection. 

"I  suppose  when  we  see  something  yellow  we'll  save 
it,"  hazarded  Terry,  more  hopefully. 

Forward,  march,  with  morning  light,  to  Gregory 
Gulch!  Clear  Creek  had  to  be  forded;  and  while, 
soaked  to  the  knees,  they  trudged  on  behind  the 
shambling  Jenny,  and  Terry  was  wondering  how  they 
were  to  climb  Table  Mountain,  the  trail  left  the  creek, 
veered  to  the  right,  and  traversed  a  deep  narrow  gulch 
whose  rocky  bottom,  scored  by  wagon-tires,  made 
rough  going. 

"Great  Caesar's  ghost!"  uttered  Harry,  as  they 
rounded  a  shoulder. 

High  above  them,  before,  was  a  portion  of  the  pro- 
cession: wagons,  animals,  and  people,  far  aloft,  zig- 
zagging up  a  mountainside  by  another  trail  (or  was  it 
the  same  trail?),  clinging  for  footholds  and  every  now 
and  then  pausing  as  if  to  breathe. 

Several  Of  the  wagons  were  drawn  by  eight  and  ten 
yoke  of  oxen ;  several  of  the  wagons  with  one  and  two 
yoke  were  apparently  stuck  fast;  teams  and  people 


124      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

alike — particularly  the  pack  animals  and  the  people 
carrying  packs — seemed  to  be  having  all  they  could 
do  to  advance  yard  by  yard.  Wagons  also  were  de- 
scending, and  raising  immense  clouds  of  dust. 

"Do  we  go  up  there?"  protested  Terry. 

"I  guess,"  decided  Harry,  "that's  where  Jenny  props 
herself  with  her  ears." 

Yes,  the  start  of  the  climb  was  only  a  short  dis- 
tance ahead.  The  canyon  almost  closed,  and  at  a 
sharp  angle  the  trail  zigzagged  right  up  the  steep  flank 
of  the  mountain — not  Table  Mountain,  but  another, 
higher. 

Jenny  pricked  forward  her  long  ears,  in  inquiring 
fashion,  and  halted  of  her  own  accord  to  survey.  Here 
at  the  base  of  the  mountain  other  outfits  likewise  had 
halted:  wagons  unloading,  or  waiting  for  teams  to 
return  and  help  them  up;  pack  animals  having  their 
packs  readjusted;  foot  travelers  sitting  and  resting 
while  gazing  upward. 

The  wagons  descending  were  dragging  behind  them 
huge  boughs,  as  brakes.  These  boughs  raised  the  dust. 
From  the  zigzag  the  grinding  of  iron  tires,  the  popping 
of  whips  and  the  shouting  of  drivers  echoed  inces- 
santly. 

Along  the  line  in  the  canyon  welled  a  cheer;  and 
accompanying  it  there  forged  past,  for  the  climb,  a 
large  party  who  must  have  numbered  one  hundred  and 
fifty,  mostly  men.  They  were  well  equipped  with 
horses,  oxen,  wagons  and  pack  mules.  Two  men  rode 
confidently  in  the  lead.  One  was  Captain  William 
Green  Russell;  the  other  looked  a  little  like  him,  but 


GREGORY  GULCH  125 

had  whiskers  that  flowed  down  upon  his  chest.  A 
third  man,  who  looked  a  little  like  both,  but  whose 
whiskers  flowed  clear  to  his  saddle-horn,  brought  up 
the  rear. 

"The  Russells!" 

'Those  are  the  Russell  brothers  and  their  party !" 

The  man  who  rode  beside  Captain  Green  Russell 
was  said  to  be  Dr.  Levi  J.  Russell.  The  long-whiskered 
man'  at  the  rear  was  the  other  brother,  J.  Oliver  "Rus- 
sell. 

On  and  up  toiled  the  Russell  company,  bound  for 
the  Gregory  diggings ;  and  encouraged  by  the  sight,  the 
halted  procession  bestirred  to  follow. 

"Jenny/'  appealed  Harry,  "are  you  good  for  it,  if 
Terry  and  I  shove  ?"  . 


CHAPTER   XI 
RICH  AT  LAST! 

UP,  up,  up,  with  Jenny  digging  in  her  toes,  snorting 
and  puffing  and  picking  her  way  over  the  roughness 
of  the  worn  rocks.  Occasionally  there  was  a  brief 
level  spot  where  one  might  stpp  and  pant  and  rest. 
Indeed,  this  was  a  hard  trail  for  anybody,  man  or 
beast,  and  Terry  felt  considerable  sympathy  for  the 
laboring  ox-teams  and  the  straining  horses  that  drew 
the  jolting,  groaning  wagons. 

The  outfits  descending  seemed  to  have  almost  as 
difficult  a  time,  for  the  wagons,  their  heavy  brake- 
shoes  smoking  and  their  boughs  dragged  behind,  en- 
veloping them  in  dust,  threatened  to  run  over  the 
teams. 

But  it  was  a  stirring  scene,  although  whether  any  of 
the  people  coming  down  were  bringing  gold  could  not 
be  learned  amidst  such  racket  and  confusion. 

Part  way  up  another  friend  was  encountered.  He 
was  the  wheel-barrow  man,  halted  to  breathe  so  as  to 
be  able  to  push  his  barrow  to  the  next  resting  place. 

"Tough  sledding,"  he  wheezed,  as  he  sat  upon  his 
barrow  handles  and  wiped  his  brow  with  a  bandanna 
handkerchief.  "Wust  yet,  but  I'm  bound  to  get  there/' 

126 


RICH  AT  LAST!  127 

They  left  the  wheel-barrow  man  behind.  At  every 
turn  they  expected  to  see  the  summit  beyond,  but  the 
climb  required  over  an  hour  and  a  half  of  steady  work. 

Here,  on  the  top,  they  were  high  above  Table  Moun- 
tain. 

"Whew!"  gasped  Harry.  The  top  was  flat,  and 
they  drew  aside,  while  they  rested.  Everybody  halted 
here  to  rest.  It  was  a  fine  view.  Down  below,  whence 
they  had  come,  was  the  trail,  with  other  outfits  zig- 
zagging up;  and  farther  was  the  trail  along  Clear 
Creek,  and  farther,  the  Platte  River;  and  farther,  the 
plains,  and  Cherry  Creek,  and  Denver  and  Auraria. 
all  wonderfully  sharp  in  the  perfectly  transparent  air. 
The  people  at  the  foot  of  the  trail  and  beyond  looked 
like  pigmies,  and  the  wagons  like  toys. 

Before,  the  trail  stretched  across  the  mountain  top 
and  appeared  to  aim  straight  into  a  tremendous  wild 
country  of  much  higher  mountains,  timbered  with  ever- 
greens and  capped  with  snow. 

The  gold-seeker  companies  were  again  starting  on. 

"Do  we  reach  Gregory  gulch  today?"  inquired 
Harry,  of  a  returning  party. 

"No,  sir;  not  by  a  long  shot.  'Tisn't  any  use,  any- 
how. Every  foot  of  ground  is  taken  up.  There  are 
two  thousand  people  in  that  gulch  already,  and  the 
same  in  the  other  gulches.  The  Gregory  folks  have 
the  best  claims.  Nothing  left  for  us  later  comers." 

The  trail  continued  to  follow  a  high  ridge,  amidst 
pines  and  bright  flowers  and  grass;  crossed  icy  cold 
streams  where  the  ridge  dipped;  and  by  night  had 
arrived  nowhere  in  particular.  So  camp  was  made, 


128      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

the  pleasantest  camp  of  the  whole  trip  from  the  Big 
Blue  valley,  because  the  air  was  so  fresh  and  pure,  and 
the  water  and  wood  abundant,  and  the  grass  so  sweet 
for  Jenny. 

"I  reckon  we're  getting  into  the  Promised  Land,*' 
hazarded  one  of  the  Extra  Limited's  neighbors. 

The  next  noon  the  mountain  divide  seemed  to  have 
been  crossed;  for  at  one  side,  far  down,  was  Clear 
Creek  again,  like  a  silver  thread  traversing  a  dark 
seam  that  was  a  canyon.  About  two  miles  ahead  it 
divided,  and  over  the  north  branch  hung  a  thin  bluish 
film  of  smoke.  The  sounds  of  ax  and  hammer  and 
ringing  pick — yes,  the  faint  sound  of  voices — drifted 
up. 

Gregory  Gulch?  That  must  be  it,  under  the  smoke, 
for  the  procession  was  hastening,  and  presently  down, 
down,  down  they  all  plunged,  for  the  bottom  where 
the  north  branch  of  the  creek  glimmered.  This  trail 
was  as  steep  as  the  zigzag  trail  on  the  east  slope.  The 
wagons  used  boughs  as  drags;  oxen  and  horses  held 
back  hard;  and  Jenny,  bracing  her  forefeet,  slid  and 
pitched  and  grunted.  Faster  and  faster  they  all  moved 
— could  not  stop — until  in  twenty  minutes  they  fairly 
tumbled,  one  after  another,  into  the  water  and  the 
mouth  of  Gregory  Gulch! 

"Well,  I  should  say  she  was  crowded!'  exclaimed 
Harry. 

He  and  Terry  gazed,  consternated.  Gregory  Gulch 
extended  westward  from  the  North  Clear  Creek;  it 
was  narrow  and  quite  long,  and  all  up  and  down  the 
creek  and  as  far  as  eye  could  see  up  the  gulch,  people 


RICH  AT  LAST!  129 

were  swarming  like  bees,  while  the  newly  arrived  gold- 
seekers  looked  on,  bewildered. 

Tents  had  been  erected,  cabins  were  rising,  bough 
lean-tos  served  as  other  shelters;  men  were  feverishly 
delving  with  spades,  washing  out  the  dirt  in  their  pans, 
or  dumping  dirt  and  water  into  wooden  boxes  that 
rocked  like  cradles ;  and  other  men  were  searching  the 
bottoms  and  slopes  for  vacant  spots  and  there  hur- 
riedly driving  in  stakes.  A  few  women  were  in  sight 
— one  woman  was  helping  her  husband  dig;  several 
were  sitting  in  doorways  or  trying  to  tidy  their 
premises. 

No  wonder  that  the  newly  arrived  people  were  be- 
wiMered.  Some  grew  gloomy  at  once  and  discour- 
aged, but  some  waxed  the  more  excited. 

"First  thing  is  to  find  a  camping  spot,"  proposed 
Harry,  briskly.  "And  then  to  find  our  mine." 

"How'll  we  find  it?"  asked  Terry.  "Where  is  the 
gold?  I  don't  see  any." 

"This  is  Gregory  gulch,  is  it?"  queried  Harry,  of 
the  nearest  miner — a  red-headed,  red-stubbled  little 
man  squatting  in  mud  to  his  ankles  beside  a  trickling 
stream,  and  twirling  a  gold-pan.  He  was  muddied  all 
over  his  tattered  trousers  and  red  shirt,  and  also  to  his 
elbows. 

"It  is ;  at  laste  it's  the  Gregory  diggings."  He  spoke 
with  a  strong  Irish  brogue. 

"Have  you  found  lots  of  gold?"  invited  Terry. 

"Oi?  Not  a  cint,  b'gorry — an'  here's  another 
empty  pan."  As  if  in  disgust  the  little  man  straight- 
ened up  and  surveyed  them.  "But  that's  not  sayin'  Oi 


130      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

won't.  Oi've  got  a  foine  claim  right  under  me  feet. 
Did  yez  jist  get  in?  Would  yez  like  to  buy  a  nice 
claim?"  He  eyed  them  shrewdly  with  his  twinkling 
eyes  set  in  his  grimy,  sweaty  face. 

"Not  yet,  thank  you,"  responded  Harry.  "Where's 
the  gold?" 

"Gold?  Faith,  all  yez  got  to  do  is  foind  it.  Sure, 
ain't  it  here  in  Gregory  gulch,  an'  don't  yez  see  all 
the  people  diggin'  ?  Didn't  Gregory  an'  five  men  take 
out  $972  in  wan  week  from  their  vein,  an'  afterward 
sell  for  $2,100  an'  lend  the  men  who  bought  it  $200  so 
they  could  go  ahead?" 

"Where  are  they?    Where  is  that  vein?" 

"Up  yonder  on  the  side  o'  the  gulch;  but  yez  can't 
get  annywhere  near  it,  for  the  people  an'  the  stakes. 
They  don't  want  visitors.  Jist  drive  your  stakes  where 
yez  can,  an'  begin  work.  My  name's  Pat  Casey.  What 
might  yez  be  called?" 

They  told  him. 

"Well,  Oi'll  see  yez  ag'in,  boys,"  promised  Pat, 
grasping  his  spade  to  refill  his  pan.  "Who  knows  but 
in  a  few  days  we'll  all  be  rich  together?" 

"All  right,  Pat,"  laughed  Harry.  So  they  left  Pat 
engaged  with  his  spade,  hoping  to  strike  it  with  the 
next  pan  full. 

They  toiled  along,  eyes  alert  for  a  camping  spot. 
A  tent  bore  the  sign :  "Groceries  for  Sail."  Another 
was  announced  as  "Miners'  Hotel" — although  where 
it  slept  its  guests  was  a  problem.  Another  tent,  through 
the  flaps  of  which  might  be  glimpsed  a  woman,  stated : 
"Back  East  Biscuits." 


RICH  AT  LAST!  131 

Dinner  of  course  was  a  hurried  affair.  Other  gold- 
seekers  were  still  descending  the  hill  and  spreading  out 
wherever  they  could.  So  no  time  was  to  be  lost.  They 
each  slung  on  a  gold-pan  by  means  of  a  thong  tied 
through  a  hole  in  the  rim;  and  with  pick  and  spade 
(Shep  staying  to  mount  guard)  they  sallied  forth. 

"I  reckon,"  mused  Harry,  "we'll  have  to  do  like  the 
rest  do:  scout  about  and  whenever  we  see  a  goldish- 
looking  spot,  try  it  out." 

"Dad  showed  us  how  to  work  a  gold  pan.  I  don't 
suppose  we've  forgotten/'  panted  Terry,  as  they 
hustled. 

"Yes,  but  he  didn't  show  us  how  to  find  the  gold," 
reminded  Harry.  "We  ought  to  locate  near  water." 

For  an  hour  they  trudged  up  and  down,  and  never 
sunk  a  spade  or  tried  a  pan.  All  the  creek  and 
all  the  side  streams  seemed  occupied.  Once  they 
halted  and  were  just  about  to  dig,  when  a  voice 
bawled :  "Get  off  my  ground !" 

"Excuse  me,"  apologized  Harry.  The  owner  of  the 
voice  was  some  distance  away.  "Is  this  your  claim?" 

"You  bet  you !    The  best  claim  in  the  diggin's." 

"How  big  is  a  claim?"  demanded  Harry. 

"Well,  a  hundred  feet  by  fifty  and  as  much  more 
as  I  can  get.  Now  vamoose." 

They  "vamoosed." 

"Two  thousand  people,  claiming  a  hundred  feet  and 
as  much  more  as  they  can  get,  doesn't  leave  much  room 
for  the  rest  of  us,"  sighed  Harry. 

"Hello,  there!"  hailed  another  voice,  more  cheery. 
It  was  the  "Root  Hog  or  Die"  professor.  He  also 


132      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

was  equipped  for  mining,  but  he  appeared  to  be  a 
wanderer  like  themselves. 

.  "Have  you  struck  anything?"  asked  Terry,  as  soon 
as  they  had  shaken  hands. 

"Not  a  sign.     Have  you?'* 

"No.    Can't  find  a  place  to  dig  in,  even." 

"This  prospecting  is  more  of  a  science  than  I  had 
thought,"  confessed  the  professor.  He  looked  tired 
out.  "I've  been  at  it  since  morning.  I  had  an  idea 
the  gold  would  show  on  the  surface." 

"So  did  we/'  admitted  Terry.  "But  the  ground  all 
looks  alike — just  common  dirt !" 

"Yes,  even  where  they're  actually  washing  gold  out," 
said  the  professor.  "I've  seen  some  gold,  though.  I 
saw  one  miner  with  a  pan  that  gave  about  a  dollar  and 
a  half,  and  I  saw  a  clean-up  in  a  sluice  that  netted 
eight  dollars." 

"What's  a  sluice  ?     One  of  those  wooden  troughs  ?" 

"Yes ;  but  lumber  for  them  is  hand-sawed  and  costs 
a  dollar  a  yard,  and  people  are  asking  as  high  as  a 
thousand  dollars  for  a  claim.  I  believe  it's  cheapest 
to  hire  somebody  to  locate  a  good  claim  for  a  fellow. 
The  Russells  and  Gregory  and  some  others  who  have 
had  experience  are  hiring  themselves  out  at  $100  a 
day,  I  understand.  There  goes  Green  Russell  now." 

"A  hundred  dollars  a  day !     Whew !"  gasped  Terry. 

Captain  Green  Russell  halted  in  passing. 

"Got  here,  did  you  ?"  he  greeted,  in  friendly  fashion. 
"Made  your  fortune  yet?" 

"We  may  be  standing  on  it,  for  all  we  know,"  an- 
swered Harry. 


RICH  AT  LAST!  133 

"For  all  you  know,  you  may,"  drawled  Mr.  Russell. 
"That's  the  trouble.  The  people  come  in  here,  like 
they  do  at  Cherry  Creek,  and  think  the  gold  shows  at 
grass-roots.  But  Gregory  didn't  find  his  lode  by  any 
pure  luck,  and  the  rest  of  us  old-timers  are  here  to 
teach  the  folks  how,  if  they  want  to  learn." 

"Could  you  put  me  on  a  good  claim?"  inquired  the 
professor,  eagerly. 

"Yes,  sir ;  I'll  prospect  for  you  at  $100  a  day.  You'd 
save  time  and  probably  money." 

"All  right.  I'll  go  with  you  and  we'll  talk  it  over." 
And  on  strode  the  professor  and  his  instructor. 

"Hum!"  remarked  Harry.  "The  secret  of  making 
money  is  to  have  something  the  other  fellow  will  pay 
for:  sometimes  that's  goods,  and  again  it's  knowl- 
edge." 

The  gulch  really  was  a  fascinating  place.  Such  a 
hive  of  industry — saw  and  hammer  at  work,  as  well 
as  pick  and  spade ;  but  amidst  it  all  there  seemed  to  be 
no  place  for  the  Extra  Limited.  A  general  disappoint- 
ment was  in  the  air,  with  so  many  persons  working 
hard  and  as  yet  getting  nothing. 

"We'll  travel  'round  to  Pat,"  quoth  Harry,  after  a 
time.  "He  may  have  struck  something  by  this." 

As  they  approached  Pat,  he  suddenly  uttered  a  loud 
whoop,  and  danced  a  jig.  His  neighbors  dropped  their 
tools  and  rushed  for  him. 

"Sure,  Oi'm  rich!"  cheered  Pat.  "There's  gold  in 
my  pan!  Hooray!  Rich  Oi  am.  Half  o'  yez  can 
look  at  a  time  till  yez  all  are  done,  an*  the  other  halves 
kape  away  so  yez  won't  carry  off  me  gold  on  yez  feet.** 


I34      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

Yes,  in  the  bottom  of  Pat's  pan  was  a  trace  of  yel- 
low, not  to  speak  of  a  pebble  about  the  size  of  a  pea 
which  he  proclaimed  to  be  gold  also. 

Scarcely  hearing  the  congratulations,  Pat  fell  to 
work  again. 

"Jimmy!"  protested  Terry.  "We've  got  to  stake 
out  a  claim  somewhere,  and  have  a  mine  ready  for 
dad  and  George.  Let's  go  clear  up  the  gulch." 

Pat's  success  was  encouraging,  at  least.  But  as  up 
the  gulch  they  went,  the  crowd  was  no  thinner,  and 
presently  Harry  stopped. 

"This  pick  and  shovel  weigh  a  ton,"  he  said.  "And 
so  do  my  feet.  I  vote  we  knock  off  work,  quit  locat- 
ing gold  and  try  to  locate  supper.  First  thing  we 
know  it'll  be  dark  and  we  can't  find  even  Jenny  arid 
Shep." 

"W-well,"  agreed  Terry.  "And  tomorrow  we'll 
start  out  again  early.  Wish  I  knew  just  what  kind  of 
dirt  had  the  gold  in  it." 

"That,"  quoth  Harry,  "evidently  is  the  secret." 

Scarcely  had  they  turned  to  retrace  their  steps  when 
another  call  hailed  them.  Somebody  was  running  for 
them,  from  the  other  side  of  the  gulch.  He  was  a 
slim,  muddy  figure,  in  boots  and  trousers  much  too 
large  for  him,  with  long  hair  flapping  on  his  bared 
head. 

They  paused  and  stared. 

"Aren't  you  the  Pike's  Peak  Limited  fellows?" 
panted  the  boy. 

"Why,  Archie  Smith!     Hello,  Archie!" 

"I  thought  it  was  you,  but  I  wasn't  sure."    Archie 


RICH  AT  LAST!  135 

was  completely  out  of  breath,  and  very  red  in  his 
thin  cheeks.  He  panted  and  coughed.  "What  are  you 
doing?  Prospecting?  Have  you  struck  anything ?  Do 
you  want  a  claim?" 

"We're  looking  'round.  No,  we  haven't  struck  any- 
thing yet,"  they  answered.  "Have  you?  How  long 
have  you  been  here?" 

"Do  you  know  of  any  good  place  to  claim?"  added 
Terry. 

"Yes.  And  you  won't  have  to  drive  a  stake !  When 
did  you  get  in?  Where's  your  camp?" 

"Down  yonder  somewhere.  We  got  in  this  morn- 
ing." 

"Gee,  but  I'm  glad  to  see  you,"  panted  Archie. 
"Hurrah !  Let's  go  to  your  camp  and  move  your  stuff. 
What  you  got?  The  cart?  Didn't  buy  a  tent,  did 
you?" 

"No.  We  came  in  with  just  the  mule.  Expect  we'll 
fix  up  a  bough  hut  till  we  strike  it  rich,"  explained 
Terry. 

"No,  you  needn't.  You're  to  stay  on  my  place.  I've 

got  a  cabin  and  a  stove  and — and "  here  Archie 

lowered  his  voice,  "boys,  I've  struck  it  rich,  myself! 
I've  got  the  best  claim  in  these  diggin's!" 

"You  have !     How  long  have  you  been  here  ?" 

"About  two  weeks.  Come  on  and  I'll  tell  you  about 
it.  Do  you  know  anything  about  mining?" 

"No,"  they  confessed,  ruefully. 

"I  didn't,  either,"  admitted  Archie,  as  together  they 
pressed  on  for  Jenny  and  Shep  and  the  packs.  "So  I 
bought  a  claim.  There  was  a  man  here  who  couldn't 


136      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

stay— he  had  to  go  down  to  Denver;  and  I  bought  his 
claim  for  only  $500.  First  I'd  prospected  for  myself, 
and  didn't  find  anything,  and  then  I  came  across  him 
just  in  time.  Gee,  I  was  lucky.  He  wouldn't  have 
sold,  only  he  was  obliged  to  get  out.  Of  course,  I 
panned  samples  of  it  before  I  bought,  and  in  the  very 
first  pan  there  was  four  dollars'  worth  of  gold!  He 

sold  me  his  cabin  and  stove  and  everything.  Boys " 

and  Archie's  voice  sank  again,  "you  may  not  believe 
it,  but  I've  already  taken  out  near  $80,  by  myself,  and 
I  can't  dig  very  long  at  a  time,  either." 

"How'd  you  pay  for  it?"  blurted  Terry.  "Did  you 
have  the  money  with  you  ?" 

"Yes.  Our  outfit  had  put  in  $200  apiece,  for  the 
trip  across  the  plains,  and  we'd  spent  only  half,  and  I 
carried  that  because  I  was  treasurer.  I  paid  for  the 
stage  ride  from  the  station,  though;  but  in  Denver  I 
worked  at  the  hotel — and — and  I  nursed  a  gambler 
who  was  sick,  and  when  he  found  out  that  I'd  studied 
medicine  he  said  I'd  saved  his  life  and  he  gave  me 
$250  as  a  doctor's  fee.  But  I'm  not  a  regular  doctor 
yet.  Now  you  fellows  are  to  come  and  work  the  mine. 
It's  named  the  Golden  Prize,  and  it's  yours!" 

Harry  stopped  short.  Terry  scarcely  could  believe 
his  ears. 

"What?"  challenged  Harry. 

"Aw,  get  out !"  scoffed  Terry. 

"But  it  is,"  insisted  Archie.  "I've  been  just  praying 
that  you'd  come  along.  I  didn't  really  save  that 
gambler's  life,  though  he  was  right  sick.  But  you 
saved  mine;  and  if  he  thought  what  I  did  was  worth 


RICH  AT  LAST!  137 

,$250,  I  reckon  what  you  did  was  worth  three  or  four 
times  that  because  you  risked  your  lives,  too.  And 
anyway,  I  can't  stay.  It's  too  high  for  me  up  here. 
I  lose  my  breath.  I  feel  a  heap  better  down  on  the 
plains,  and  I  guess  I'll  go  back  home  for  a  spell.  If 
I  don't  give  the  mine  to  you  somebody'll  jump  it. 
There  isn't  anybody  up  here  I  can  trust." 

"But,  great  Caesar!"  expostulated  Harry.  "We'll 
work  it,  if  you  want  us  to,  while  you're  gone.  We 
won't  accept  it  forever,  though." 

"I  should  say  not !"  affirmed  Terry.  "We  can  find 
our  own  claim." 

"No,  you  can't.  The  trained  miners  are  the  ones 
who  find  the  best  ground,  and  you're  not  trained.  All 
right:  you  can  work  it  just  as  if  it  were  your  own, 
and  you  can  have  all  you  find  till  I  come  back." 

"Cracky,  but  that  will  make  us  rich,  won't  it  ?"  cried 
Terry. 

"Of  course  it  wilL  I've  taken  $80  in  four  days  and 
I  tell  you  I've  just  dug  a  little  bit.  It  tires  me  all  out 
to  dig;  and  the  water's  so  far.  But  you  fellows  can 
put  in  a  sluice — I'll  lend  you  enough  dust  to  buy  boards 
with,  if  you  haven't  enough " 

"We've  got  a  little,  and  if  we  haven't  enough  we'll 
dig  out  more,"  declared  Harry,  quickly. 

"And  with  a  sluice  running  you  can  just  pile  up  the 
yellow!" 

"Whoop-ee!"  cheered  Terry,  wildly.  "We're  rich 
at  last." 


CHAPTER   XII 

PANNING  THE  "GOLDEN  PRIZE" 

THE  Golden  Prize  property  appeared  to  be  a  very 
snug  proposition.  It  was  located  about  a  mile  up 
Gregory  Gulch,  and  right  in  the  midst  of  things.  There 
was  a  good  enough  dug-out,  set  partly  into  the  slope 
at  the  bottom  of  one  of  the  rocky  hills  in  the  gulch, 
with  log  walls  surrounding  the  single  room  and  a  sod 
roof.  It  contained  a  rusty  stove  (better  than  a  fire- 
place) and  a  bunk  and  a  slab  table  and  a  slab  stool,  all 
on  a  dirt  floor.  The  cooking  utensils  were  hung  on 
the  wall.  The  door,  of  split  logs,  like  puncheons, 
swung  by  leather  hinges  and  fastened  with  a  wooden 
pin  and  latch-string. 

But  the  mine  of  course  was  the  most  important. 
That  was  really  the  first  thing  to  be  inspected.  Archie 
showed  it  rather  proudly,  although  it  did  not  look  very 
imposing,  being  only  a  deep  trench  into  the  hillside 
just  beyond  the  cabin. 

Down  the  shallow  side  draw  that  helped  to  form  the 
hill  ran  a  small  stream  of  muddy  water,  which  finally 
joined  the  main  drainage  stream,  below. 

"You  see,"  said  Archie,  "I  have  to  carry  all  my  dirt 
to  that  stream  so  as  to  wash  for  the  gold,  and,  gee !  but 

138 


PANNING  THE  "GOLDEN  PRIZE"     139 

it's  hard  work.  About  breaks  my  back.  The  digging 
and  the  climbing  up  and  down  are  too  much  for  me. 
A  fellow  ought  to  lead  the  water  nearer,  some  way." 

"Why  didn't  you?"  asked  Terry. 

"I  did  think  of  digging  a  ditch,  but  that's  an  awful 
job,  and  I'd  have  to  squat  with  a  gold-pan  just  the 
same.  I  suppose  if  I'd  stayed  here  I'd  have  built  a 
sluice  or  hired  one  built.  I  couldn't  build  it  myself, 
because  the  boards  are  too  heavy  to  handle.  And  any- 
way, I  want  to  go  out.  I  can't  breathe  up  here.  I 
don't  feel  as  good  as  when  I  came  in,  and  mostly  I 
just  sit  and  puff.  I  felt  lots  better  down  on  the  plains. 
If  I  can't  work  the  mine,  what's  the  use  in  having  it? 
But  I'd  a  heap  rather  give  it  to  you  fellows  than  sell 
it  to  strangers." 

"We  won't  take  it,  but  we'll  work  it  for  you,  on 
shares,"  again  asserted  Harry. 

Archie  stubbornly  shook  his  head — and  his  thin 
cheeks  were  crimson. 

"Nope.  You  can  share  together  but  you  can't  share 
with  me.  You  work  it  and  keep  all  you  find;  I  owe 
it  to  you.  I'm  so  tickled  I  can  hardly  see." 

"Where  do  we  begin?"  cried  Terry,  excited.  "Which 
is  the  best  spot,  Archie?" 

"I'll  show  you  in  the  morning.  I'll  show  you  every- 
thing," panted  Archie,  "before  I  go.  We'll  wash  out 
some  color,  anyway." 

"We'd  better  get  our  stuff  unpacked  before  dark, 
Terry,"  reminded  Harry.  "The  mine  will  keep.  We 
know  it's  there.  Whew,  but  this  is  a  big  stroke 
of  luck.  Doesn't  seem  as  though  we'd  earned  it" 


140      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

Dusk  settled  early  in  the  gulch,  and  by  the  time 
they  had  stowed  their  stuff  away,  and  Jenny  had  been 
turned  out  to  browse  among  the  rocks  and  pines  on  the 
hillside,  most  of  the  camps  in  the  gulch  had  ceased 
their  work  of  the  day  and  had  changed  to  the  work  of 
the  evening.  Smoke  was  welling  from  chimneys  and 
from  open  fires,  far  and  near ;  wood  was  being  chopped 
and  men  and  women  were  cooking.  The  gulch  sud- 
denly seemed  cheerful  and  homelike:  a  miraculous 
contrast  with  the  dark  timber  rising  above  on  all  sides, 
where  the  wild  animals,  bear  and  bobcats  and  elk  and 
wolves,  probably  sniffed  in  astonishment. 

Harry  made  a  big  batch  of  flapjacks  and  a  pot  of 
coffee;  Shep  curled  in  a  corner  and  snuggled  for  com- 
fortable sleep;  the  air  outside  was  chill,  but  within 
was  warm,  and  a  candle  that  Archie  produced  gave 
light  enough  to  eat  by. 

Archie  was  awarded  the  bunk,  for  a  good  rest. 
Harry  and  Terry  spread  their  beds  on  the  floor.  They 
were  used  to  sleeping  on  the  ground,  but  Terry  found 
it  hard  to  go  to  sleep.  He  wanted  to  talk — he  fairly 
itched  to  be  out  with  spade  and  pan,  digging  gold  from 
"their"  mine.  Think  of  it!  A  mine,  a  genuine  gold 
mine,  at  last!  Now  they  could  pay  his  father  back 
easy,  and  also  show  him  and  George  how  to  get  rich. 

"I  know  how  you  feel,"  said  Archie,  from  the  bunk. 
"They  say  that  when  Gregory  discovered  his  lode  after 
tracing  it  for  miles,  and  found  four  dollars  in  his  first 
pan,  he  kept  his  partner  awake  till  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  talking,  and  he  was  still  talking  at  breakfast 
time." 


PANNING  THE  "GOLDEN  PRIZE"     141 

"Wonder  how  he  discovered  it,"  hazarded  Terry. 

"He  just  started  in  on  lower  Clear  Creek,  at  the 
Platte,  and  kept  panning,  and  panning,  on  up,  until 
above  this  gulch  the  gold  quit.  Then  he  turned  into 
this  gulch,  because  it  seemed  to  yield  the  most  color, 
and  the  gold  was  the  coarsest,  and  he  kept  panning 
and  panning  until  the  color  quit  again.  Then  he  knew 
he'd  come  to  the  place  where  the  gold  below  was 
washed  from.  So  he  went  back  to  the  Platte  and  got 
a  partner;  and  they  sized  up  the  natural  lay  of  the 
gulch,  at  the  highest  spot  where  the  color  had  quit — 
and  they  struck  rich  diggings  with  the  very  first  spade- 
ful. That  was  the  sixth  of  May.  After  they'd  located 
a  lot  of  ground  for  themselves  and  their  friends  the 
news  got  out,  and  now  look  at  the  mob !" 

"Well,  I'll  bet  we've  got  something  just  as  good," 
declared  Terry,  confidently. 

Immediately  after  a  hurried  breakfast  they  started 
in  to  pan  their  own  claim,  under  the  direction  of 
Archie. 

"I've  always  found  the  most  gold  in  that  spot  there," 
he  instructed.  "There  was  another  spot,  where  I 
panned  first,  but  it's  quit  on  me.  Expect,  though, 
you'll  find  a  lot  of  'em.  Let's  dig  and  try  out  some 
of  the  dirt  in  our  pans." 

Into  the  spot  Terry  plunged  the  spade.  The  dirt  was 
gravelly  and  soft — two  strokes  of  the  blade  were  more 
than  enough  to  loosen  sufficient  for  the  three  pans. 
The  pans  were  sheet-iron  and  about  the  size  and  shape 
of  a  large  milk-pan.  In  a  moment  they  three  were 
trailing  down  to  the  little  creek,  each  with  some  two 


142      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

inches  of  the  dirt  in  the  bottom  of  his  pan.  They 
squatted  to  fill  the  pans  with  water,  and  carefully 
twirled  to  slop  it  out  again  along  with  the  dirt  that 
ought  to  float  off. 

This  was  an  anxious  process.  Archie  finished  first, 
because  he  was  in  practice. 

"I  didn't  get  anything  this  time,"  he  announced, 
gaily.  "But  I  don't  care.  I'm  going  out." 

Terry's  dirt  had  practically  all  flowed  off.  He  picked 
out  the  bits  of  gravel — they  were  only  pebbles  and 
flakes  of  rock.  He  peered  for  yellow — yes,  there  it 
was !  A  glint  mingled  with  a  seam  of  coarse  sand. 

"I've  got  some!"  he  yelled.  "See  here?  I've  got 
some!" 

Archie  looked  in. 

"That's  right.  Let  me  finish  it  for  you.  I'll  flirt 
that  sand  out." 

So  he  did,  with  a  dexterous  twirl  that  sent  part  of 
the  sand  out  and  the  rest  against  the  sides,  and  left 
the  heavier  yellow  in  the  middle. 

"Reckon  I've  landed  a  little,  myself,"  remarked 
Harry. 

He  had !  Perhaps  a  trifle  more  than  Terry,  and  the 
two  pans  together  weren't  enough  to  cover  the  point 
of  the  knife-blade  with  which  they  scraped  the  yellow 
up  and  carefully  deposited  it  in  Father  Richards'  old 
buckskin  bag,  brought  for  the  purpose. 

"Gold's  worth  $21  an  ounce  and  that's  about  a 
pennyweight,  I  guess,"  encouraged  Archie.  "Ninety 
cents — but  it's  a  beginning.  Of  course,  where  you  dug 
I'd  been  digging  before.  You'll  find  a  better  place. 


PANNING  THE  "GOLDEN  PRIZE"     143 

You  see,  I've  already  taken  out  $80.  So  go  ahead 
and  keep  panning,  and  I'll  travel." 

Archie  had  arranged  to  leave  with  a  wagon  outfit 
who  were  disgusted  because  they'd  discovered  nothing. 
The  two  new  proprietors  of  the  Golden  Prize  stopped 
operations  long  enough  to  bid  him  good-bye,  and  watch 
him  trudge  away,  his  pack  on  his  back. 

"When  you  want  some  of  your  gold,  come  back  or 
let  us  know,"  called  Harry,  after. 

"It's  all  yours,"  he  retorted.  "That's  why  I  bought 
the  mine." 

"Jiminy!"  exclaimed  Terry.  "That's  big  pay  for 
what  little  we  did — just  giving  him  a  drink  of  water 
and  toting  him  in  a  cart." 

The  next  few  pans  didn't  yield  anything  at  all; 
then  Harry  made  a  "strike,"  as  he  called  it,  and  scraped 
out  as  much  yellow  as  would  cover  a  finger-nail.  He'd 
got  the  dirt  from  a  new  spot,  "for  luck,"  and  from 
the  same  spot  Terry  managed  to  extract  about  as  much. 

"We'll  have  to  try  about,"  counseled  Harry,  "until 
we  find  spots  like  those  of  Archie's.  We've  got  a  lot 
of  space  yet." 

As  Archie  had  said,  this  digging  and  panning  was 
hard  work.  At  every  stroke  the  spades  clinked  against 
rock — a  boulder  or  a  ledge — and  to  chip  away  with  a 
pick  was  about  as  bad.  And  then,  to  trudge  back  and 
forth  with  the  pans !  But  Harry  hit  upon  the  idea  of 
dumping  the  dirt  upon  a  piece  of  gunny  sacking  and 
thus  carrying  several  spadesful  at  a  time,  to  be  panned. 

They  scarcely  stopped  for  dinner,  and  by  evening 
had  greatly  widened  the  trench.  When  they  knocked 


144      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

off  for  supper  and  sleep  the  buckskin  sack  was  appar- 
ently as  fiat  and  as  light  as  in  the  early  morning,  and 
they  were  mud  from  soles  to  waist.  But  nevertheless, 
the  sack  contained  gold !  Peeking  in,  one  might  see  it ! 

"We'll  have  to  get  a  pair  of  scales,"  proclaimed 
Harry.  "And  we'll  have  to  go  about  this  more  scien- 
tifically. Panning's  too  slow." 

"How  much  did  we  find,  do  you  think?"  invited 
Terry. 

"Five  dollars'  worth,  maybe — and  we're  hungry 
enough  to  eat  five  dollars'  worth  of  grub.  But  that's 
all  right.  We're  just  starting  in,  and  we  own  all  the 
ground  from  the  cabin  to  that  little  creek,  and  from 
half-way  up  the  hill  down  to  the  bottom.  Hooray!" 
He  grabbed  Terry  and  they  war-danced,  while  Shep 
barked  gladly. 

"I'd  rather  dig  gold  than  potatoes,  wouldn't  you, 
now?"  demanded  Terry.  "We're  liable  to  make  a 
hundred  dollars  'most  any  day.  We  haven't  done  much 
more  than  scratch." 

"What  do  you  want  for  supper?"  asked  Harry. 
"Let's  celebrate  with  antelope  steak  and  apple  pie." 

"Sure !"  cheered  Terry.  "We  don't  have  to  save  on 
grub." 

They  were  sitting  down,  on  the  stool  and  the  edge 
of  the  bunk,  to  a  sumptuous  supper,  when  a  step  and 
a  grunting  sounded  outside,  Shep  growled,  and  into 
the  half-open  doorway  was  thrust  an  inquiring  face. 
It  was  the  red  face  of  Pat  Casey. 

"Good  evenin'  to  yez,"  he  proffered,  blinking. 

"Come  in,  come  in.    Glad  to  see  you.     Sit  and  have 


PANNING  THE  "GOLDEN  PRIZE"     145 

a  bite/'  And  Harry  changed  from  the  stool  to  the 
bunk-edge  beside  Terry. 

Pat,  muddy  like  everybody  else,  clumped  in,  agrin. 

"Sure,  Oi've  had  my  supper,  but  Oi'll  set  a  bit,"  he 
answered.  "Oi've  been  a-lookin'  for  yez.  An'  are  yez 
at  home  already?" 

"Yes,  sir-ee,"  pronounced  Harry,  triumphantly. 
"Here  we  are." 

"An'  have  yez  located?  'Tis  the  sick  boy's  prop- 
erty, ain't  it?  Oi  saw  him  goin'  out  this  mornin'." 

"All  ours  now,  till  he  comes  back  again ;  cabin,  claim, 
everything." 

"And  we're  to  have  all  we  find,"  added  Terry. 
"We've  panned  over  five  dollars  already  and  we're 
only  learning.  He  took  out  $80,  but  there's  the  whole 
claim  left  yet:  tons  of  it!  We're  going  to  put  in  a 
sluice  and  do  a  lot  other  improving  and  fix  things  up 
right." 

"B'  gorry,  mebbe  yez  have  a  bonanzy,"  congratulated 
Pat.  "Gold  is  where  yez  find  it.  Oi've  washed  out  a 
matter  o'  wan  dollar  an'  sixty-si ven  cints  meself,  but 
didn't  Oi  tell  yez  we'd  all  be  rich  together,  some  o' 
these  days?"  He  sniffed  and  gazed  over  the  table. 
"Faith,  is  that  a  pie  ?  A  genuyine  pie  ?" 

"That's  what.     Have  a  piece,  Pat?" 

"Tis  wan  thing  Oi  can't  refuse,"  admitted  Pat, 
modestly.  "  'Specially  apple  pie." 

Harry  cut  him  a  generous  piece,  and  having  dis- 
sected it  with  his  knife  into  large  mouthfuls,  he  ac- 
cepted the  invitation  to.  finish  the  half;  Harry  and 
Terry  ate  the  other  half. 


146      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Ye  made  it?"  he  inquired,  of  Harry.  "Glory  be! 
Sure,  now,  Oi  wish  ye  were  in  the  business.  Couldn't 
ye  make  me  a  pie,  occasional?  Oi'll  pay  ye  two  dol- 
lars apiece  annytime." 

"Can't  promise  that  yet,  Pat,"  laughed  Harry.  "But 
whenever  we  have  a  pie  you're  welcome  to  help  us 
eat  it." 

"Not  me,"  protested  Pat.  "A  rale  apple  pie  is  worth 
two  dollars  of  anny  man's  money;  an'  if  that  ain't 
enough  Oi'll  pay  ye  more." 

But  of  course  pie  was  a  small  item  in  comparison 
with  a  gold  mine  that  might  yield  $100  a  day,  under 
proper  management.  However,  Pat  lighted  his  short 
black  pipe  and  spent  the  evening,  and  they  all  talked 
gold,  gold,  gold. 

"I  think,"  said  Harry,  after  Pat  had  left,  with  much 
good- will  and  another  reference  to  pie,  and  the  two 
partners  prepared  for  bed,  "that  tomorrow  we'll  make 
a  tour  around  the  camp,  to  see  what  other  folks  are 
doing,  and  then  we'll  know  how  to  go  about  it  the 
quickest  way.  Panning  is  too  slow  for  us." 


CHAPTER   XIII 

READY  FOR  BIG  BUSINESS,  BUT   *   *   *    ! 

WHEN  after  breakfast  they  started  out,  "for  (as 
Harry  said)  the  latest  wrinkles  in  getting  rich  quick," 
the  gulch  was  already  astir  and  at  work.  And  a  busy, 
inspiring  sight  it  was,  alive  from  side  to  side  and  ap- 
parently from  end  to  end  with  cabins,  completed  or 
begun,  some  plank-roofed,  some  roofed  with  pine 
boughs;  with  dug-outs,  tents,  wagons,  oxen,  mules, 
and  with  men  digging,  burrowing,  toiling  at  spade  and 
pick,  squatting  over  gold-pans,  or  manipulating  the 
boxes  set  on  rockers,  while  the  few  women  were  at- 
tending to  dishes  or  hanging  out  the  family  washing. 

"Washing  $3  a  dozen,"  announced  a  sign  in  front 
of  one  tent. 

The  gulch  was  long  and  broken,  and  of  course  not 
half  the  sights  were  to  be  seen  from  any  one  point. 

"Let's  walk  up  a  piece,  first,"  suggested  Harry. 

So  they  did,  in  confident  manner.  Only  day  before 
yesterday  they  had  come  in  as  tender  feet — not  know- 
ing a  thing  and  not  owning  a  foot  of  ground.  Now 
they  were  regular  residents,  actual  miners,  with  a  pay- 
ing claim  and  a  cabin,  and  might  hold  up  their  heads. 
The  very  dirt  on  their  clothes  proclaimed  their  rank. 
Terry  felt  like  a  wealthy  citizen. 

147 


148      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

The  man  who  evidently  owned  the  claim  next  above 
theirs  paused  to  greet  them.  He  was  another  young 
man,  with  a  blond  beard,  and  a  smile  that  disclosed 
white  even  teeth,  and  although  he  was  roughly  dressed 
in  ragged  red  flannel  shirt,  belted  trousers  and  heavy 
cow-hide  boots,  his  chest,  showing  under  his  shirt, 
which  was  open  at  the  throat,  was  very  white,  and  now 
as  he  rested  his  foot  upon  his  spade  and  shoved  back 
his  slouch  hat,  his  forehead  also  was  very  white. 

"How  are  you,  neighbors?"  he  accosted.  "Made 
your  pile  yet  ?" 

"No,  sir,"  promptly  responded  Harry.  "But  it's 
right  there  waiting  for  us.  All  we've  done  is  a  little 
panning,  and  with  proper  development  work  we've  got 
a  bonanza." 

"We  sure  have,"  supported  Terry.  "We  panned  out 
five  dollars  in  color,  first  thing.  But  that's  too  slow." 

The  man  smiled  good-humoredly. 

"You're  in  luck,  then."  He  wiped  his  brow.  "I 
haven't  seen  my  color  yet,  but  I  suppose  it's  around  in 
here  somewhere.  Anyway,  I'm  getting  plenty  of  ex- 
ercise. We're  all  crazy  together.  I  expect  I'm  as 
crazy  as  the  rest.  You  know  what  Virgil  says — facilis 
decensus  Averni,  eh  ?"  and  he  eyed  Harry  inquiringly. 
"Did  you  find  that  so?" 

"  'Easy  is  the  descent  to  Avernus,'  eh  ?"  translated 
Harry.  "Hum!  Well,  we  did  come  down  in  here  at 
a  good  gait.  How  we'll  get  out  again  is  a  question. 
But  you  must  be  a  college  man." 

"Yes,  and  also  a  preacher.  'Whom  the  gods  destroy 
they  first  make  mad'  is  another  favorite  reflection  of 


READY  FOR  BIG  BUSINESS,  BUT  *  *  *    149 

mine,  among  these  diggin's.  Are  you  a  college  man, 
too?" 

"Yes;  University  of  Virginia." 

"I'm  Yale.  Glad  to  meet  you.  Well,  it's  a  great 
place — all  kinds  of  us  jumbled  and  digging  and  sweat- 
ing, talking  gold  and  eating  gold  and  dreaming  gold, 
when  most  of  us  could  accomplish  more  and  make  more 
where  we  came  from." 

"I  reckon  the  thing  we  don't  know  how  to  do  al- 
ways looks  easier  than  the  thing  we  do  know  how  to 
do,"  reasoned  Harry. 

"Exactly.     But  where  are  you  bound  for?" 

"We're  going  to  put  in  improvements,"  spoke  Terry. 
"Do  you  know  where  we  can  get  a  sluice?" 

"Make  it,  if  you  can  buy  the  lumber.  But  you'll 
have  to  stand  in  line  and  grab  the  boards  as  fast  as 
they  fall  from  the  saw.  By  the  way,  you  don't  object 
to  my  using  that  water,  do  you?  I'm  not  certain 
whether  it's  on  your  land  or  mine;  it's  pretty  nearly 
between,  as  I  figure." 

"We  thought  it  was  on  our  side,  but  use  all  you  want, 
certainly,"  replied  Harry. 

They  left  the  preacher  to  his  digging  and  proceeded. 

The  farther  they  went  up  the  gulch,  the  more  in- 
tense seemed  the  fever  for  work,  and  the  thicker  the 
camps  and  people.  Yes,  and  there  was  gold,  too! 
Three  men  were  operating  a  "rocker."  This  was  one 
of  those  wooden  boxes  on  rockers  like  a  cradle;  one 
man  shoveled  in  dirt,  another  poured  in  water,  a  third 
rocked  the  box  from  side  to  side,  and  the  water  and 
dirt  flowed  out  through  a  slot  at  the  lower  end. 


ISO      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

The  Golden  Prize  proprietors  halted  to  watch.  When 
the  water  and  dirt  had  escaped,  in  the  bottom  of  the 
box  were  to  be  seen  several  cleats  nailed  across,  and 
caught  against  these  cleats  was  gold !  The  men  figured 
that  there  was  eight  dollars'  worth  right  there! 

Up  here  were  a  few  sluices,  too :  the  long  troughs, 
also  with  cleats  nailed  across  the  bottom  inside,  to 
catch  the  gold  as  the  water  and  dirt  flowed  over.  Into 
some  of  the  sluices  water  had  to  be  poured  by  hand, 
but  others  led  from  streams  and  the  water  flowed 
through  without  having  been  dipped.  The  shorter 
sluices  were  called  "Long  Toms." 

"That's  what  we  want,"  decided  Harry.  "A  regu- 
lar sluice,  running  right  across  our  claim." 

"There's  the  wheel-barrow  man !"  exclaimed  Terry. 

And  so  it  was,  standing  in  front  of  a  tent  which 
bore  the  sign,  "W.  N.  Byers.  The  Rocky  Mountain 
News,"  and  nearby  was  a  stake  and  a  sign:  "Central 
City." 

They  shook  hands  with  the  wheel-barrow  man. 

"What's  this  ?"  demanded  Harry.    "A  town  ?" 

"Yes,  sir!  Mr.  Byers  has  named  it.  It's  the  best 
location.  Right  in  the  middle  of  the  Gulch." 

"Is  he  going  to  stay  here?" 

"Nope ;  but  he's  pushing  things  along.  What's  hap- 
pened to  you  boys?  You  look  as  if  you'd  been  pros- 
pecting." 

"We  have,"  laughed  Harry.    "Haven't  you?" 

"Yes,  a  little."  And  he  suddenly  called:  "Hello, 
John.  What's  the  matter  down  there  ?" 

"They've  got  wind  of  another  strike,"  answered  the 


READY  FOR  BIG  BUSINESS,  BUT  *  *  *    151 

man,  striding  on.  He  was  a  black-bearded  man,  and 
seemed  very  busy. 

"That's  John  Gregory  himself,"  explained  the  wheel- 
barrow man.  "The  original  boomer  of  this  gulch. 
But  watch  the  people  pile  out,  will  you !" 

"Yes;  there's  a  big  strike  south  of  here,  I  under- 
stand," from  the  doorway  of  his  tent  spoke  Mr.  Byers 
himself:  a  stocky,  pleasant-faced  man,  with  a  close- 
trimmed  brown  beard.  The  diggings  had  as  great  a 
variety  of  beards  and  whiskers  as  it  had  of  people. 

So  he  was  the  pioneer  newspaper  man,  was  he — the 
man  who  had  brought  a  printing-press,  and  a  stock  of 
paper  already  printed  on  one  side  at  Omaha,  clear  from 
the  Missouri  River  to  Cherry  Creek.  But  Terry  was 
given  scant  opportunity  to  stare.  Harry  clutched  him 
by  the  sleeve : 

"Come  on,  quick !     I've  got  an  idea." 

Away  they  hastened,  back  down  the  gulch.  Before, 
at  the  lower  end,  the  confusion  was  increasing.  Out- 
fits were  hurrying  away — drivers  swinging  their  lashes, 
men  footing  fast;  camps  were  breaking,  and  on  their 
claims  miners  and  prospectors  were  shouldering  pick 
and  spade  and  pack  and  hastening  after  the  procession 
now  crossing  the  creek. 

The  movement  spread  up  the  gulch,  communicated 
from  camp  to  camp  and  claim  to  claim. 

"What'll  we  do?    Get  more  land?"  puffed  Terry. 

"No,  no." 

But  the  lower  end  of  the  gulch  was  not  by  any  means 
deserted,  as  they  arrived.  It  was  mainly  the  frothy 
overflow  that  had  bubbled  out,  and  when  the  eddy  had 


152      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

settled  there  appeared  to  be  almost  as  many  people  as 
before.  Even  the  claims  which  had  been  abandoned 
were  being  quickly  re-occupied.  However,  Harry 
dashed  to  one  man  who  had  packed  up  and  on  his 
cabin  was  tacking  a  sign :  "Keep  Off !"  while  his  part- 
ner waited. 

"Going  to  leave?" 

"Mebbe  so.  Want  to  buy  this  claim  ?  She's  a  hum- 
dinger." 

"No.     But  I'll  buy  your  sluice.    How'll  you  sell  it  ?" 

"That  sluice?     Seventy-five  dollars." 

"Whew!" 

"It's  forty  feet  long,  of  three  boards;  that  means 
1 20  feet,  and  lumber's  $300  a  thousand  feet  and  you 
have  to  put  in  your  order  a  week  ahead.  With  the 
props  and  the  cleats  and  the  nails  there's  over  $40  of 
material  in  that  sluice,  and  I  reckon  the  labor  of  haul- 
ing and  building  is  wuth  the  balance." 

"I'll  give  you  $50,"  snapped  Harry. 

"Sold.  But  hurry  up.  We  can't  wait  long  here  to 
sell  a  sluice.  There's  too  much  doing  'round  the  cor- 


ner." 


Harry  fished  out  three  gold  pieces — two  twenties  and 
a  ten — and  passed  them  over. 

"Better  take  it  off  this  property  quick  or  somebody 
else  will,"  advised  the  man ;  and  away  he  and  his  part- 
ner strode,  for  the  strike  in  Bobtail  Gulch  just  across 
a  little  divide  south. 

"Lucky  again!"  jubilated  Harry — who,  Terry  saw, 
had  been  smart.  "Cost  a  lot  of  money,  but  we  couldn't 
have  made  it  much  cheaper  ourselves  and  we'd  have 


READY  FOR  BIG  BUSINESS,  BUT  ***    153 

been  held  up  waiting  for  boards.  You  sit  on  it  while  I 
go  for  Jenny.  We  haul  the  whole  thing  at  once." 

"Maybe  we  could  have  got  it  for  nothing,  after 
they'd  left,"  proposed  Terry,  with  an  eye  to  the  gen- 
eral grab-all  as  various  persons  swarmed  over  the 
abandoned  claims. 

"It  wasn't  ours,  was  it?"  retorted  Harry.  "But  it  is 
now."  And  he  left  at  a  fast  limp. 

He  returned  with  Jenny,  harnessed,  and  they  tri- 
umphantly dragged  away  the  sluice,  carrying  also  the 
scissors  props  on  which  it  had  rested.  Its  joints  indeed 
threatened  to  part,  but  by  picking  their  path  they  ar- 
rived with  it  intact  at  the  Golden  Prize. 

Their  preacher  neighbor  greeted  them  with  a  wave 
of  hand  and  came  over  to  inspect. 

"Looks  as  though  you  were  going  right  into  busi- 
ness," he  asserted.  "I  thought  maybe  you'd  join  the 
rush  for  Bobtail." 

"No,  sir ;  we  stick,"  assured  Harry.  "A  bird  in  the 
hand's  worth  two  in  the  bush." 

"Well,  depends  on  the  bird,"  answered  the  preacher. 
"Now,  my  bird's  an  old  crow,  I'm  afraid,  and  if  I 
could  see  a  fat  turkey  in  the  bush  I'd  drop  my  crow 
pretty  quick,  like  those  other  fellows." 

After  dinner  Harry  rather  ruefully  examined  his 
money  belt.  It  was  flat  and  limp. 

"Ten  dollars  left,"  he  said. 

"And  our  dust,  you  know,"  reminded  Terry.  "We've 
the  five  dollars  we  washed  out,  and  we  can  wash  out 
more  whenever  we  want  it." 

Harry  brightened. 


154     THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"That's  right.  We're  rich.  You  can  try  panning 
again,  this  afternoon,  and  I'll  go  down  to  the  grocery 
and  lay  in  provisions  and  any  other  stuff  we'll  need, 
and  then  we  can  set  up  the  sluice  and  pile  up  the  gold. 
Get  to  have  everything  running  before  Father  Rich- 
ards and  that  George  Stanton  come  in." 

"We  can  buy  a  claim  for  them,  too,"  proposed  Terry. 
"Or  find  one  that's  been  left." 

"No  crows,"  corrected  Harry.    "Turkeys  only." 

Terry  went  at  his  panning  with  enthusiasm,  bound  to 
make  a  showing.  Panning  was  slow,  but  it  was  rather 
exciting  because  there  always  was  liable  to  be  some- 
thing yellow  right  under  your  eye,  if  you  looked  close 
enough.  Panning  was  a  one-man  job;  you  did  it  all 
yourself. 

The  preacher  strolled  over  to  watch. 

"How's  the  dirt  paying  now  ?"  he  queried. 

"Pretty  good.  I've  found  some  more,"  truthfully 
answered  Terry.  "About  a  dollar's  worth,  I  guess." 

"A  pinch,  eh?  How'd  you  like  to  take  over  my 
claim?" 

"Haven't  any  money  yet.  I  mean,  we  won't  have 
money  till  we  get  the  sluice  to  going." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  proffered  the  preacher. 
"Just  to  make  the  transaction  binding,  I'll  sell  you  the 
claim  for  your  next  pan.  Preaching  is  my  business, 
not  mining,  you  see.  If  you  buy  my  claim,  then  no- 
body can  accuse  you  of  jumping  it." 

"All  right,"  accepted  Terry. 

"Play  fair,  now,"  laughed  the  professor.  "Take 
your  dirt  from  a  good  rich  spot." 


READY  FOR  BIG  BUSINESS,  BUT  *  *  *    155 

Spots  looked  mainly  all  alike  to  Terry.  The  hole 
where  he  had  been  digging  was  laying  bare  the  hard 
rock,  but  he  scraped  up  a  quantity  of  dirt  and  loose 
splinters  from  a  crevice 

"You're  giving  me  principally  rock,  aren't  you?" 
criticized  the  preacher,  good-naturedly.  "But  let  it 
go.  I'll  be  game." 

However,  as  the  pan  cleared  and  Terry  threw  aside 
the  splinters,  they  both  exclaimed.  Yellow  was  plainly 
visible — and  moreover  there  was  a  blackish,  cindery 
fragment  the  size  of  a  crushed  hazel-nut  that  glinted 
and  weighed  suspiciously  as  Terry  lingered  in  the  act 
of  tossing  it  away  also. 

"Here!  Hold  on!"  And  the  preacher  took  it. 
"Nugget,  isn't  it?  Fifteen  or  twenty  dollars,  I'll 
wager — and  ten  dollars  more  in  flakes !" 

"That's  a  rich  pan,  boys,  as  I  reckon,"  interrupted 
a  voice,  accompanied  by  crunching  footsteps  and  a 
growl  from  Shep. 

The  speaker  was  a  miner  over  six  feet  tall  and 
broad  in  proportion — a  veritable  giant  of  a  man,  in 
clothes  as  rough  as  the  roughest,  and  with  a  revolver 
at  his  belt.  In  his  black- whiskered  face  his  eyes  were 
small  and  deep-set,  and  close  together,  or  as  close  as 
an  enormous  nose  would  permit.  He  was  carrying  a 
sack  on  his  shoulder,  which  he  deposited  in  order  to 
investigate  the  pan. 

"Yes,  sir-ee.  A  $40  pan,  countin'  the  nugget.  Does 
all  your  dirt  run  like  that?" 

"No,  sir;  not  yet,"  replied  Terry.  "But  maybe  it 
will  when  we  sluice  it." 


156      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Coin*  to  sluice,  are  you?"  The  giant's  close-set 
little  eyes  roved  about  inquisitively.  "This  your  claim, 
is  it?" 

"Yes,  sir.     This  and  the  next  one." 

"Where'd  you  get  that  lucky  pan  o'  dirt?" 

"From  that  hole." 

The  giant  strode  up,  carelessly  poked  about  in  the 
hole  with  his  boot-toe,  filtered  some  of  the  dirt  through 
his  fingers. 

"You're  down  to  bed-rock  already,"  he  pronounced, 
returning.  "I  calkilate  you  may  have  struck  a  leetle 
pocket,  but  I  don't  count  much  on  these  shallow  slopes. 
Some  gold  ketches,  most  of  it's  washed  down.  He 
your  partner  ?"  and  he  indicated  the  preacher. 

"No,  sir.    My  partner's  down  to  the  store." 

"Older'nyou?" 

"Some." 

"Waal,"  and  the  giant  picked  up  his  sack,  "you'll 
have  most  of  your  work  for  nothin'.  May  strike  an 
occasional  pocket,  an'  may 'not.  You've  got  one  o' 
them  pore  locations.  Mostly  rock."  With  that  he 
stumped  on  into  the  little  draw  down  which  flowed  the 
side  rivulet.  Once  he  paused,  to  cast  a  glance  behind 
at  the  stream  and  the  waiting  sluice;  and  then  he  dis- 
appeared around  a  shoulder  up  the  draw. 

"We're  no  better  off  for  his  opinion,"  quoth  the 
preacher.  "Don't  believe  he's  quite  the  style  of  a  man 
I'd  cater  to,  anyway.  But  our  bargain  holds,  does  it  ? 
I'll  make  you  out  a  bill  of  sale." 

"Sure,"  manfully  assented  Terry,  trying  not  to  re- 
gret that  this  was  the  one  big  pan. 


READY  FOR  BIG  BUSINESS,  BUT  *  *  *    157 

Harry  presently  arrived,  laden  with  purchases. 

"Meat's  fifty  cents  a  pound,"  he  panted.  "We  may 
have  to  eat  Shep  or  Jenny.  Flour's  snapped  up  at  $15 
a  sack,  and  milk's  fifty  cents  a  quart  from  the  cows  of 
some  of  the  emigrants.  Whew!  Couldn't  find  any 
gold-scales ;  we'll  do  our  weighing  at  the  grocery  store 
till  the  express  office  or  post  office  is  opened.  Every- 
thing's payable  in  dust.  But  I  invested  in  a  treat  for 
us;  see?"  and  he  produced  a  can  of  oysters!  "That's 
our  bank.  The  groceryman  says  oyster-cans  are  the 
popular  things  for  holding  gold,  in  the  diggin's.  It 
cost  two  dollars,  but  it'll  be  worth  a  heap  more  than 
that  when  it's  full.  I'm  nearly  strapped,  though. 
Have  you  added  much  to  our  pile  ?" 

"Added  the  preacher's  claim,"  blurted  Terry,  and 
'fessed  up.  "It  was  a  big  pan,  too,"  he  concluded. 
"I've  found  only  a  little  color  since." 

"Color  helps,"  encouraged  Harry.  "That  will  be  a 
claim  for  George.  Good !  We  can  work  both  with  the 
same  water." 

The  preacher  brought  the  bill  of  sale  of  the  "True 
Blue"  claim,  as  he  had  named  it ;  and  that  evening  they 
had  him  in  to  join  them  in  making  merry  over  the  can 
of  oysters.  Harry  thoroughly  washed  out  the  emptied 
can  and  set  it  aside  to  dry,  for  the  "bank." 

The  "improvements"  on  the  True  Blue  claim  con- 
sisted of  merely  a  few  holes  and  a  lean-to  of  pine 
boughs  covered  with  a  piece  of  ragged  canvas.  Th« 
preacher  jovially  carried  away  his  personal  belongings 
on  his  back;  he  was,  as  he  expressed  it,  "traveling 

light." 


158      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

Left  in  possession  of  both  claims,  the  two  partners 
decided  to  fill  their  oyster-can  from  the  Golden  Prize 
first,  and  they  jumped  into  the  work  of  setting  up  the 
sluice. 

This  proved  to  be  a  bigger  job  than  it  had  appeared 
before  being  tackled.  The  sluice  was  heavy  and  had 
to  be  moved  about  by  sections;  and  to  place  it  con- 
veniently and  yet  give  it  the  proper  slant,  the  ground 
had  to  be  leveled  or  mounded  or  lowered ;  and  a  little 
dam  had  to  be  made,  with  a  race  or  ditch  to  supply  the 
water  to  the  upper  end  of  the  sluice :  and  what  with 
disconnecting,  and  shifting  hither-thither,  and  re-con- 
necting, and  all  that,  two  days  were  consumed. 

There  had  been  no  time  for  panning,  but  now,  at 
last,  they  might  start  in  washing  by  wholesale,  so  to 
speak. 

They  lugged  the  dirt  on  gunny  sacking  to  the  sluice, 
dumped  the  dirt  into  the  running  water,  and  while 
Harry  stirred  it  Terry  followed  down  along  the  sluice 
to  throw  out  the  rocks  and  clear  the  riffles  or  cross 
cleats.  A  back-breaking  and  also  muddy  job  this  sluic- 
ing was,  for  the  sackings  of  dirt  were  heavy  and  the 
sluice  of  course  leaked  at  the  seams  and  joints,  so 
that  the  ground  underneath  was  speedily  soaked  and 
made  slippery  by  the  constant  trudging. 

By  noon  the  riffles  were  filled  with  gravelly  mud, 
and  Harry  decided  that  they  should  be  cleaned.  So 
the  water  was  turned  off. 

Now  for  the  test! 

"I  see  yellow !  I  see  yellow !"  asserted  Terry,  run- 
ning from  cleat  to  cleat,  and  eyeing  the  deposits  against 


READY  FOR  BIG  BUSINESS,  BUT  *  *  *    159 

each ;  and  indeed  it  did  seem  to  him  that  the  little  dikes 
glistened  roguishly. 

"You  see  more  than  I  do,  then,"  retorted  Harry, 
rubbing  his  long  nose.  "What  I  see  is  more  panning, 
after  all,  to  sort  that  stuff." 

They  dug  the  lodged  stuff  out  with  their  knives,  and 
panned  several  cleatsful  at  a  time.  Harry  found  a 
nugget  (small  one) ;  little  by  little  the  gold  left  in  the 
pans  increased  (hurrah!),  until,  at  the  wind-up 

"How  much,  do  you  think?"  demanded  Terry,  ex- 
citedly. 

"Mighty  near  an  ounce,  and  the  nugget  besides ;  say 
$40."  Harry's  dirty  face  was  abeam.  "And  we've 
washed  as  much  dirt  in  half  a  day  as  we  could  pan  by 
hand  in  a  week.  At  this  rate  we'll  soon  have  both 
claims  skinned  to  the  rock,  and'll  need  others.  But  I 
reckon  we  can  find  'em,  or  buy  'em." 

"Looks  as  though  we  were  going  to  be  powerful 
rich,  doesn't  it  ?"  said  Terry,  awed  by  the  very  thought. 
"We'll  fill  our  oyster  can." 

"Shucks!"  remarked  Harry.  "I  saw  one  sluice 
where  they'd  cleaned  up  $138  in  a  day — but  there 
were  four  men  working  it,  and  they  had  more  loose 
dirt  than  we've  got.  Our  dirt's  mostly  rock.  Any- 
way, we'll  lay  aside  that  $100  we  owe  Father  Richards 
and  have  something  to  show  extra  before  he  and 
mother  and  the  Stantons  come  in." 

However,  the  afternoon  clean-up  netted  them,  al- 
though they  had  dug  the  dirt  from  a  deeper  place 
which  looked  very  promising,  scarcely  color!  And 
when  early,  before  breakfast,  in  the  morning,  Terry 


160      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

sallied  out  to  survey  about  and  plan  for  a  big  day,  to 
his  astonishment  the  rivulet  was  dry,  except  for  a 
dribble! 


CHAPTER   XIV 

PAT  CASEY  HELPS  OUT 

HE  hastened  back  to  the  cabin  with  his  eyes  popping. 

"Our  water's  gone !" 

"What!" 

"It  is.    There's  not  enough  to  fill  a  tin  cup !" 

"Great  Scotland !"  And  setting  aside  the  skillet  and 
dropping  his  fork,  Harry  rushed  out  to  see  for  him- 
self. 

"Wonder  if  the  blamed  thing's  drying  up/'  he  haz- 
arded. "Well,  we've  got  a  pailful  for  drinking  and 
cooking,  anyway.  And  after  breakfast  we'll  try  to 
find  out  what's  happened." 

They  had  not  yet  explored  the  little  draw  down 
which  the  water  drained;  it  was  shallow  and  uninter- 
esting; but  they  did  not  need  to  go  far  to  find  out 
"what  had  happened."  Around  the  shoulder  of  the 
first  bend  they  arrived  at  a  branch  draw  on  the  other 
side  of  their  low  hill,  and  were  in  the  midst  of  some 
more  claims. 

Water  from  a  spring  had  been  feeding  the  little 
draw  and  the  branch  draw  both ;  but  now  a  sluice  had 
been  set  up,  taking  away  so  much  that  there  was  none 
left  for  the  little  draw. 

161 


162      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

Several  men  were  at  work  with  the  sluice.  They 
paid  no  attention  to  their  visitors  until  Harry  inter- 
rupted the  nearest. 

"Look  here.    You  men  have  taken  our  water." 

The  man  turned  around  short.  He  was  the  giant 
who  had  commented  on  Terry's  big  pan  and  on  the 
condition  in  general  of  the  Golden  Prize  prospect. 

"What  you  talkin'  about?"  he  growled.  "Who  are 
you  an'  where  you  come  from?  Oh,  it's  you,  is  it?" 
he  added,  to  Terry — and  Terry  had  the  notion  that  he 
had  known  perfectly  well  who  they  were  and  where 
they  were  from,  before  speaking. 

"Yes,"  answered  Terry.  "And  this  is  my  partner. 
You  aren't  leaving  us  any  water  for  our  own  sluice." 

"You  have  all  that  comes,  haven't  you?" 

"We  haven't  all  that  ought  to  come,  though,"  an- 
swered Harry,  a  bit  sharply  because  the  giant's  tone 
was  decidedly  rough.  "You've  dug  the  ditch  to  your 
sluice  higher  up  than  necessary,  and  it  lowers  the  level 
of  the  spring  so  much  that  no  water  enters  our  gulch 
at  all.  The  stream  used  to  split,  didn't  it?" 

"Split  nothin'.  Trouble  is,  your  gulch  is  runnin' 
dry.  You  ought  to've  figgered  on  that,  now  that  the 
snow's  all  melted  off  and  sunk  in.  Most  of  those  little 
gulches  dry  up,  come  toward  summer." 

"The  stream  used  to  split,  and  feed  through  this 
gulch,  just  the  same,"  insisted  Harry.  "You  can  see 
the  channel.  I  hold  that  we're  entitled  to  a  share  of 
this  spring.  And  if  you'd  move  your  ditch  a  foot  or 
two  we'd  get  enough,  and  you'd  have  plenty  your- 
selves." 


PAT  CASEY  HELPS  OUT  163 

"You're  entitled  to  just  what  drains  into  your  gulch, 
an'  we're  entitled  to  what  drains  into  ours,"  growled 
the  giant.  "This  water's  in  our  gulch,  ain't  it — spring 
and  all?" 

"I  don't  know  that  it  is,  by  rights,"  retorted  Harry. 
"The  spring's  pretty  close  to  being  at  the  dividing 
point.  And  anyway,  we're  not  asking  you  for  your 
water;  we're  asking  for  ours." 

"Now  look-ee  here,"  and  the  giant  tapped  his  re- 
volver butt :  "By  miners'  law  we're  entitled  to  a  share 
o'  what  water  comes  down  our  gulch,  an'  by  miners' 
law  you're  entitled  to  a  share  o'  what  water  comes 
down  your  gulch,  alluz  considerin'  there's  any  to  share. 
If  your  claim  was  wuth  a  picayune  I'd  advise  you  to 
hold  on  till  next  spring,  when  mebbe  you'd  get  a  leetle 
water  again  from  natteral  drainage;  but  as  it  ain't 
wuth  a  picayune  I'd  advise  you  to  get  off  an'  look  else- 
whar.  Anyhow,  you  get  off  this  ground  mighty 
quick;  for  if  you're  huntin'  trouble  you'll  find  it  in  a 
bigger  dose  than  you  can  handle." 

"It  looks  to  me  like  a  deliberate  scheme  to  run  us 
off,"  began  Harry,  hotly.  But  he  checked  himself. 
"Come  on,  Terry,"  he  bade.  ' 

"Did  you  see  Pine  Knot  Ike?"  exclaimed  Terry,  as 
they  returned,  with  heads  up,  to  their  own  ground.  "I 
did — he  was  down  below,  with  another  man." 

"Yes,  I  saw  him."  Back  at  their  sluice  again  they 
stood  undecided.  Harry  scratched  his  long  nose  and 
surveyed  about.  "Confound  'em!  It's  a  dirty  mean 
trick.  If  they'd  change  the  head  of  their  sluice  ever 
so  little  we'd  have  enough  water  and  so  would  they. 


164      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

But  they've  fixed  it  so  that  when  they  shut  off  to 
clean  up  the  water  all  flows  the  other  way.  Let's  see. 
We  can  get  water  for  the  cabin  from  that  creek  down 
below.  Might  pan  with  it,  too — only  we'd  spend  most 
of  our  time  carrying  the  dirt  down  or  the  water  up." 

But  when  they  went  down  to  the  creek,  to  investi- 
gate, they  were  curtly  told  by  a  camper  there  that  his 
claim  and  others  extended  all  along  on  both  sides,  and 
that  they  were  entitled  to  the  water  themselves. 

"You  can  help  yourselves  to  drinking  water,  and 
that's  all,"  he  granted.  "I'm  sorry,  strangers,  but  if 
you're  on  a  dry  prospect  I  reckon  you'd  better  get  out." 

"Not  yet!"  retorted  Harry.  "Not,"  he  added  to 
Terry,  "as  long  as  we  can  make  pie!  Come  on.  We'll 
find  Pat." 

They  had  not  seen  Pat  Casey  for  several  days.  As 
they  descended  the  gulch,  it  seemed  busier  and  more 
crowded  than  ever.  Five  thousand  people  were  here 
now,  according  to  report,  and  all  the  surrounding 
gulches  were  thronged,  also.  Sluices  were  running, 
others  were  being  set  up — and  the  thought  of  their 
own  dry,  useless  sluice,  and  the  gold  that  must  be  wait- 
ing, and  the  way  they  had  worked  to  prepare  for  get- 
ting it,  made  Terry  half  sick.  His  father  would  laugh, 
and  George  would  be  a  pest.  Yes,  George  would  poke 
all  manner  of  fun  at  them. 

Pat  wasn't  where  they  had  expected  to  find  him. 

"Pat  Casey  ?  The  red-headed  Irishman,  you  mean  ? 
He's  across  yonder,  and  he's  struck  it  rich.  You'll 
find  him  over  there,  strangers,  washing  out  $50  and 
more  a  day." 


PAT  CASEY  HELPS  OUT      165 

So  Pat  had  moved.  He  was  waist  deep  in  a  trench 
that  showed  signs  of  soon  being  a  tunnel;  and  when 
from  the  brink  they  hailed  him,  he  clambered  out.  All 
mud  and  perspiration  was  Pat. 

"B'  gorry,  Oi'm  glad  to  see  yez,"  said  Pat.  "Oi've 
been  thinkin'  o'  yez,  but  what  with  gettin'  rich  Oi've 
no  time  for  calls.  Oi  bought  out  the  men  who  were 
gopherin'  here,  an*  now  the  deeper  Oi  go  the  richer 
Oi  am.  Sure,  yez  are  lookin'  at  a  millionaire,  'most. 
An*  how  are  things  with  you  boys  ?" 

They  told  him.     Pat  scratched  his  head. 

"Too  bad,  too  bad.  An'  a  dirty  trick.  But,  faith, 
there  ain't  water  enough  to  go  'round,  an'  that's  a 
fact;  not  sayin',  though,  that  they're  actin'  square,  at 
all.  For  they  ain't.  Are  yez  in  need?"  He  winked. 
"Jist  come  into  me  house  a  minute." 

He  led  them  into  his  bough  hut,  and  from  under- 
neath his  bunk  fished  out  an  oyster  can. 

"Heft  it,  wance,"  he  invited. 

It  was  heavy. 

"Help  yourselves,  lads,"  he  insisted. 

But  Harry  laughed. 

"Not  yet,  thanks,  Pat.  We've  got  a  little  to  tide  us 
along.  What  I  want  to  know  is,  how's  your  appetite 
for  pie?" 

"Two  dollars  apiece  for  pie,  an'  two  pies  a  day: 
wan  for  breakfast  an'  wan  for  supper ;  an'  on  Sunday 
wan  for  dinner  besides,"  promptly  answered  Pat. 

"It's  a  go,"  pronounced  Harry. 

"Will  it  take  the  both  o'  yez  to  make  pie?"  queried 
Pat.  "Sure,  ye  look  like  a  husky  boy,"  he  said,  to 


166      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

Terry.  "Let  your  partner  make  the  pies,  an'  ye  turn 
your  hand  to  helpin'  me  at  the  sluice.  Oi  need  another 
good  worker.  Oi  fired  the  wan  Oi  had  only  this  very 
mornin'  because  he  sat  down  too  frequent.  Oi'll  give 
ye  a  dollar  an*  a  half  a  day,  an'  ye  can  fetch  down  me 
pies." 

"That's  a  bargain,"  accepted  Terry.  "Wait  till  I 
get  my  spade." 

When  he  and  Harry  arrived  again  at  their  own  prop- 
erty they  found  the  giant  there.  He  was  standing  in 
their  hole,  and  inquisitively  poking  about. 

"Here!    What  are  you  doing?"  challenged  Harry. 

"No  harm  meant,"  apologized  the  giant.  "But 
you're  down  to  bed-rock  an*  that's  a  fact.  Still,  a 
man  might  wash  out  a  little  dust,  from  spots,  I  reckon, 
if  he  had  the  water.  Now,  the  truth  is  we're  sorry 
for  you  boys.  You've  put  consider'ble  time  an'  labor 
in  on  this  prospect,  an'  we're  willin'  to  do  the  right 
thing.  How'llyou  sell?" 

"For  how  much?"  demanded  Harry. 

"The  property's  no  good  to  you ;  never  would  amount 
to  anything  great  anyhow;  it's  too  rocky.  But  I'll 
tell  you  what  we'll  do:  We'll  give  you  $100  for  your 
claim,  to  save  hard  feelin's,  an'  we'll  take  the  chance 
o*  pannin'  out  enough  when  there's  water,  to  pay  us 
back.  I  expec'  we'll  lose,  but  we'd  rather  lose  than 
have  the  hard  feelin's.  You  get  the  hundred  dollars  an' 
the  experience." 

"We'll  keep  the  experience  and  the  claim,  too;  eh, 
Terry?"  Harry  answered.  "And  there's  something 
you  men  can  keep :  you  can  keep  off.  What's  that 


'THE    GIANT    SAT   DOWN    WITH    AN    EXPLOSIVE   GRUNT,   AND    HARRY   STOOD 
OVER,    SCARCELY    PANTING,    REVOLVER    DANGLING    IN    HAND  " 


PAT  CASEY  HELPS  OUT  167 

in  your  hand?     A  piece  of  our  rock?     Drop  it!" 

"Cock-a-doodle-do !"  jeered  the  giant.  "Mebbe  I 
picked  up  this  rock  here  an'  mebbe  I  picked  it  up  some- 
wheres  else.  But  I  drop  it  when  I  get  ready.  You 
crow  mighty  loud  for  a  young  rooster  without  any 
spurs." 

The  giant  was  standing  confidently  agrin,  resting  at 
ease  on  one  leg,  his  hand  on  his  hip — but  he  did  not 
know  Harry.  With  a  single  jump  Harry  had  reached 
him,  quicker  than  the  eye  could  follow  had  jerked  the 
revolver  from  its  scabbard  and  at  the  same  time  with 
a  twist  of  the  foot  had  knocked  loose  the  propping 
leg.  The  giant  sat  down  with  an  explosive  grunt,  and 
Harry  stood  over,  scarcely  panting,  revolver  dangling 
in  hand. 

"We  wear  our  spurs  on  the  inside,  like  a  cat's 
claws,"  he  said.  "Now  you  sit  there  till  you  drop  that 
piece  of  rock." 

But  the  giant  looked  so  ugly  and  menacing,  as  he 
glared  about,  that  Terry  flew  to  the  cabin  for  the  shot- 
gun. He  was  back  with  it  in  a  jiffy — and  the  giant 
was  already  slowly  rising  to  his  feet.  He  had  dropped 
the  piece  of  rock. 

"T  isn't  wuth  sheddin'  blood  for,"  he  grunted. 
"Your  hull  property  isn't  wuth  the  lead  in  a  bullet. 
But  I  admit  you  did  for  me  mighty  clever.  Where'd 
you  1'arn  that  trick?" 

"We're  as  full  of  tricks  as  you  are,"  retorted  Harry. 
"Here's  your  gun.  You  needn't  keep  him  covered, 
Terry.  He's  going." 

"Then  you  refuse  our  offer,  do  you  ?" 


168      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Yes.  You  can't  buy  even  the  privilege  of  walking 
across  this  land  for  a  hundred  dollars  or  a  thousand 
dollars." 

"All  right.  You  can  squat  here  till  you  starve  an' 
dry  up,  then.  Mebbe  you  have  the  trick  o'  livin'  on 
nothin',  but  I  doubt  it.  I'd  like  to  know  that  wrestlin' 
trip,  though — I'll  give  you  an  ounce  o'  dust  to  show 
me." 

"No,  you  can't  buy  that,  either,"  laughed  Harry. 

"That  preacher  feller  gone  away  ?"  queried  the  giant, 
with  a  jerk  of  the  head  toward  the  True  Blue  claim. 

"Yes,"  said  Harry,  shortly.     "He's  quit." 

With  a  calculating  glance  around,  the  giant  stalked 
off.  They  watched  him  go.  Harry  picked  up  the 
piece  of  rock. 

"Wonder  what  he  wanted  of  this,"  mused  Harry. 
"It  doesn't  look  any  different  from  lots  of  the  other 
rock.  White  quartz,  I  reckon,  with  iron  rust  in  it. 
We  could  have  given  him  a  bushel  of  the  same.  He 
didn't  find  it  lying  loose,  though.  He  cracked  it  off 
from  somewhere.  That's  a  fresh  break." 

They  searched  about  curiously  a  minute  for  the 
source  of  the  fragment.  It  was  a  smooth  knob,  the 
size  of  a  large  walnut,  showing  rusty  white  at  the 
fracture. 

"We  can't  wash  rock,  anyhow,"  quoth  Terry.  "It 
just  clogs  up  the  sluice.  We  wash  the  dirt." 

"And  we  can't  wash  even  that  now.  It  seems  queer, 
though,  that  that  outfit  would  want  to  buy  this  claim 
after  saying  it's  worthless.  You  didn't  want  to  sell, 
did  you?" 


PAT  CASEY  HELPS  OUT  169 

"No,"  stoutly  declared  Terry.  "Not  unless  we  have 
to,  to  pay  dad  back." 

"Not  as  long  as  we  can  sell  pies  and  make  day  wages, 
at  any  rate,"  added  Harry.  "There  are  just  as  good 
ways  of  getting  money  as  digging  it  out  the  ground. 
If  those  fellows  bother  us  we've  tricks  for  all  their 
legs  as  fast  as  they  bring  'em  over."  He  stuffed  the 
piece  of  rock  into  his  pocket.  "I'll  keep  this  for  luck," 
he  said. 

Harry  alertly  started  in  on  preparations  for  his  pie- 
baking;  he  had  hopes  of  enlisting  other  customers  than 
Pat.  Terry  shouldered  spade  and  pick,  and  trudged 
off  to  help  Pat. 

He  found  Pat  much  excited. 

"Have  ye  heard  the  grand  news  ?  No  ?  Why,  sure, 
the  great  editor  man,  Horace  Grayley,  be  comin'  to 
the  diggin's !  He's  on  his  way  already — him  an'  other 
cilibrated  citizens  all  the  way  from  New  York.  The 
boys  are  arrangin'  a  rayciption  for  'em  tomorrow ;  an* 
b'  gorry,  'tis  mesilf  will  have  the  honor  o'  lettin'  the 
great  Grayley,  who  be  the  editor  o'  the  New  York 
Tribyune,  wash  the  gold  with  his  own  hands  from  this 
very  pit.  Faith,  if  Oi  don't  make  his  pans  rich  for 
him  my  name's  not  Pat  Casey." 

When  that  evening  Terry,  wet  and  dirty  and  tired, 
went  home,  the  word  of  the  approach  of  Editor  Horace 
Greeley  and  party  had  aroused  much  interest  through 
the  gulch. 

He  found  everything  shipshape  but  quiet  at  the 
cabin,  where  Harry  had  baked  several  pies  and  a  batch 
of  bread  and  hung  out  some  washing.  A  sign,  of 


i;o    "THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

wrapping    paper    and    charcoal    lettering,    now    an- 
nounced : 


GREGORY  GULCH  BAKERY 
Apple  Pie 
Bread,  Etc. 
HARRY  REVERE  &  Co. 


CHAPTER   XV 

HORACE  GREELEY  COMES  TO  TOWN 

THE  Horace  Greeley  party  arrived  early  the  next 
morning,  and  breakfasted  at  the  lower  end  of  the  gulch 
before  proceeding  upon  an  inspection  of  the  diggings. 
Their  visit  was  deemed  of  the  utmost  importance,  for, 
as  Pat  explained  to  Terry,  they  were  here  to  see  the 
gold  with  their  own  eyes  and  handle  it  with  their  own 
fingers,  so  as  to  print  the  truth  in  the  New  York 
"Tribyune" 

Sure,  whatever  Horace  Greeley  said,  the  people 
would  believe. 

In  order  to  make  certain  that  the  report  would  be  a 
good  one,  it  had  been  arranged  to  pilot  Mr.  Greeley  to 
the  richest  of  the  claims,  and  invite  him  to  wash  from 
these  for  himself.  Pat's  was  the  lowest  down  and 
therefore  the  first — and  now  Pat  seemed  to  think  that 
the  reputation  of  the  gulch  rested  on  his  shoulders. 

He  had  donned  a  fresh  shirt,  ahead  of  time,  and  evi- 
dently had  tried  to  slick  up  generally.  The  water  had 
been  turned  off  from  the  sluice  as  if  in  preparation  for 
a  postponed  clean-up. 

"Take  it  Jasy,"  directed  Pat,  when  Terry,  having 
delivered  the  two  pies  contracted  for,  was  about  to 
spring  into  the  pit  and  begin  the  business  of  the  day. 

171 


172      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Let  the  sluice  be,  so  His  Honor  can  clane  up  some 
o'  the  riffles  by  himself.  An'  we'll  jist  be  loesenin'  the 
dirt  a  bit  here  an'  yon,  for  the  sake  o'  keepin'  busy  an' 
makin'  the  place  convanyent  for  him." 

In  fact,  Pat  was  so  particular  in  "jist  loosenin'  the 
dirt  a  bit"  that  Terry  suspected  him  ©f  not  wishing  to 
soil  his  shirt. 

"Well,  I'm  thinkin'  they're  comin',"  pronounced  Pat. 
"Out  o'  the  pit  with  ye  an'  wash  your  hands  an'  face 
so  ye'll  be  a  credit  to  the  gulch.  Sure,  ye  might  have 
put  on  a  clane  shirt  yourself— but  mebbe  'tis  better 
wan  of  us  looks  like  a  hard  worker." 

Terry  had  a  notion  to  retort  that  probably  Harry 
was  wearing  the  clean  shirt ;  they  had  only  three  shirts 
for  the  two  of  them,  and  the  extra  ought  to  go  to  the 
cook,  of  course. 

All  around,  the  other  miners  were  unusually  busy,  so 
as  to  impress  the  great  Horace  Greeley,  but  they  kept 
an  eye  directed  down  the  gulch.  Now  a  party,  on  mule- 
back,  were  drawing  near.  They  numbered  half  a 
dozen,  conducted  by  John  Gregory  himself,  and  a  little 
squad  of  onlookers  trailed  behind. 

Occasionally  they  stopped,  to  survey  operations ;  Pat, 
pretending  to  dig,  awaited  nervously. 

"Mind  ye,  let  me  do  the  talkin',"  he  cautioned,  to 
Terry.  "An'  be  polite  to  His  Honor,  yourself.  He's 
a  great  man.  An'  in  case  Oi  ask  ye  to  dig,  take  your 
dirt  careless  loike  from  the  corner  beside  that  white 
rock,  for  the  rock's  a  lucky  stone." 

The  party  halted  at  Pat's  pit  and  gazed  in,  and  Pat 
and  Terry,  pausing  in  their  show  of  work,  looked  up. 


HORACE  GREELEY  COMES  TO  TOWN    173 

Besides  John  Gregory,  there  were  in  the  party  Green 
Russell  and  Mr.  Williams,  the  stage  company  superin- 
tendent, and  Editor  William  Byers  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain News,  and — yes,  Mr.  Villard,  the  Cincinnati  re- 
porter. 

Terry  did  not  know  whether  Mr.  Villard  would  re- 
member him,  or  recognize  him,  anyway,  in  those 
clothes,  which  were  much  worse  than  when  worn  in 
Denver. 

"This  is  one  of  our  promising  gulch  claims,"  was 
saying  John  Gregory.  And — "Good  morning  to  you, 
Pat,"  he  addressed.  "How  are  things  looking  with 
you  today?" 

"Foine,  thank  ye,  John,"  assured  Pat. 

"Come  out  a  minute,  Pat.  Mr.  Greeley,  I  want  to 
make  you  acquainted  with  Mr.  Casey,  a  leading  citizen 
of  the  Gulch.  And  Mr.  Richardson — Mr.  Casey.  And 
Mr.  Villard — Mr.  Casey."  Pat,  who  had  clambered 
out,  removed  his  hat  and  rather  bashfully  shook  hands. 

So  that  was  Horace  Greeley,  was  it ;  the  editor  of  the 
New  York  Tribune!  He  didn't  look  like  an  editor  of 
a  big  paper  such  as  the  Tribune.  Rather,  with  his 
square  hat  and  his  rosy  face  surrounded  with  a  fringe 
of  short  white  whiskers,  and  his  roly-poly  figure,  as 
he  sat  his  mule,  his  legs  sticking  straight  out,  he  looked 
more  like  a  church  deacon  or  a  prosperous  "back  East" 
farmer. 

Mr.  Richardson,  who  probably  was  that  reporter  for 
the  Boston  Journal,  as  spoken  of  by  Mr.  Villard  in 
Denver,  was  a  tall,  wiry  man  with  soft  hat  and  full 
brown  beard,  and  wore  a  Colt's  revolver. 


174      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"These  gentlemen  are  out  from  the  East,  Pat,"  con- 
tinued John  Gregory,  "to  see  if  it's  true  that  we're  all 
starving  hereabouts  and  that  the  gold  is  in  our  eye. 
Mebbe  you've  no  objection  to  their  doing  a  little  inves- 
tigating on  their  own  account  down  in  your  hole  there." 

"Faith,  Oi'd  be  proud  if  their  Honors  would  touch 
their  fingers  to  me  dirt,"  asserted  Pat.  "Would  they 
loike  to  get  down  in,  or  shall  Oi  pass  a  bit  up  to  'em?" 

Mr.  Greeley  and  Mr.  Richardson  and  Mr.  Villard 
dismounted  and  peeked  in. 

"About  how  much  are  you  washing  out  a  day,  Pat  ?" 
invited  Green  Russell. 

"Oh,  a  hundred  dollars  a  day,  more  or  less,  dependin' 
on  the  clane-ups,"  answered  Pat. 

"Upon  my  word !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Greeley,  adjusting 
a  pair  of  spectacles,  the  closer  to  peer.  "I  was  scarcely 
prepared  to  find  that  a  fact." 

"You're  ready  to  make  a  clean-up,  I  see,"  spoke  Mr. 
Byers.  "Suppose  you  show  Mr.  Greeley  and  these 
other  gentlemen.  How  long  will  it  take?" 

"A  matter  o'  two  hours,"  replied  Pat.  "But  would 
His  Honor  loike  to  try  a  pan,  first?  Sure,  a  pan  or 
two  from  the  pit,  an'  a  couple  from  the  riffles — that's 
a  fair  tist." 

"Yes,  I  believe  I  should  like  to  see  the  evidences  of 
a  pan,"  declared  Mr.  Greeley. 

"There's  no  need  of  His  Honor  gettin'  down  in," 
averred  Pat.  "It's  no  place  for  the  feet  of  a  gintle- 
man.  Terry,  me  lad,  pan  a  spadeful,  will  ye,  an'  show 
Mr.  Grayley  the  color  so  the  New  York  Tribyune'll 
tell  the  world  all  about  it?" 


HORACE  GREELEY  COMES  TO  TOWN    175 

Something  in  the  slant  of  Pat's  eye  reminded  Terry 
to  dig  his  dirt  from  beside  the  white  rock  in  the  cor- 
ner ;  seizing  the  spade,  he  did  so,  and  dumped  into  the 
pan  always  handy.  The  ditch  that  fed  the  sluice  was 
only  a  few  steps  from  the  shallow  edge  of  the  pit. 
Squatting  over  it,  Terry  deftly  panned  the  dirt.  No 
one  could  have  done  it  better — and  the  result  certainly 
was  amazing.  Terry  handed  up  the  pan,  but  he  scarcely 
could  believe  his  eyes.  Mr.  Horace  Greeley  would  re- 
quire no  'specs  to  see  that  color ! 

"Between  two  an'  thray  dollars,  Your  Honor,"  as- 
sured Pat,  as  amidst  exclamations  the  remarkable  pan 
was  passed  about.  "Even  a  boy  can  get  the  rale  stuff 
in  these  diggin's.  Will  Your  Honor  keep  the  dust  for 
a  token?  An'  will  ye  be  after  tryin'  a  pan  for  your- 
self? Sure,  everything  ye  find  is  yours." 

"You  might  try  a  pan  from  the  riffles  of  the  sluice, 
Mr.  Greeley,"  suggested  Mr.  Byers. 

"I  will."  Mr.  Greeley  promptly  rolled  up  his  sleeves, 
and  settled  his  square  hat  more  firmly  on  his  head. 
"Let  me  have  the  pan,  if  you  please."  He  carefully 
scraped  the  color  from  the  pan  and  deposited  it  in  a 
buckskin  bag  that  he  carried.  "Where  shall  I  take 
from?" 

"Annywhere,  annywhere,  Your  Honor,"  bade  Pat. 

"Why  not  about  the  middle,  Mr.  Greeley  ?"  proposed 
Journalist  Richardson.  "That  would  be  fair." 

"Let  him  alone,  gintlemen,"  urged  Pat.  "Let  His 
Honor  do  it  all  himself.  Come  out,  Terry,  lad.  Ye'll 
be  gettin'  in  His  Honor's  way." 

That  was  not  one  bit  true,  because  Mr.  Greeley 


176      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

would  not  be  anywhere  near  Terry.  However,  Terry 
trudged  out,  to  please  the  anxious  Pat;  and  now  Mr. 
Villard  hailed  him. 

"Why— hello,  Pike's  Peak  Limited !  I  thought  that 
was  you.  Where's  your  partner,  and  how  are  you 
making  it  in  the  mines?"  He  shook  heartily  with 
Terry,  in  spite  of  the  mud  on  Terry's  clothes — not  to 
speak  of  considerable  on  Terry's  hand. 

"Harry's  up  at  the  cabin.  We're  doing  pretty  well, 
thank  you,"  answered  Terry. 

"Well,  I  should  rather  say  you  were,  if  you  wash 
out  two  and  three  dollar  pans!  I  was  hoping  to  see 
you.  Mr.  Richardson  has  a  message  for  you.  Richard- 
son, this  is  one  of  the  partners  in  that  Pike's  Peak 
Limited  outfit  you've  inquired  about." 

"Oh,  yes."  And  Mr.  Richardson,  the  Boston  jour- 
nalist, also  shook  hands  with  Terry.  "Glad  to  meet 
you.  Mr.  Greeley  and  I  passed  some  people  on  our 
way  out  by  stage.  That  is,  they  spent  the  night  near 
us,  at  one  of  the  stage  stations.  They  asked  us,  if  we 
saw  the  Pike's  Peak  Limited  boys  at  the  diggin's  any- 
where, to  say  they  were  coming.  There  were  two 
families  traveling  together.  One  was  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Richards " 

"They're  my  father  and  mother !"  exclaimed  Terry. 

"And  the  other  was  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stanton,  and  a 
boy  and  a  little  girl." 

"I  know  'em!"  cried  Terry,  excited.  "The  boy's 
name  is  George  and  the  girl's  name  is  Virgie.  The 
Stantons  are  near  neighbors  of  my  folks,  in  the  Big 
Blue  Valley.  Are  they  near?  When'll  they  get  here?" 


HORACE  GREELEY  COMES  TO  TOWN    177 

"Oh,  they  were  some  distance  out  yet,"  smiled  Mr. 
Richardson.  "But  they  had  spanking  good  teams  and 
were  pushing  right  through.  They'll " 

"Ha,  ha !  Watch  our  old  friend  Horace !  He  acts 
like  an  expert/'  hughed  Mr.  Villard. 

For  Mr.  Greeley,  after  having  deliberately  selected 
the  packed  dirt  from  several  of  the  riffles  at  the  middle 
of  the  sluice,  was  proceeding  to  wash  his  pan  at  the 
ditch. 

"Why,  His  Honor  might  have  been  in  the  diggin's 
all  his  life !"  praised  Pat.  "Sure,  isn't  he  a  Calif orny 
Forty-niner  ?" 

Mr.  Greeley  was  not  so  swift  in  his  motions  as  a 
skilled  prospector,  but  he  evidently  knew  the  correct 
method.  He  dipped,  and  tilted  the  pan,  and  twirled 
out  the  dirt  and  water;  and  peered,  and  dipped  and 
twirled  again. 

Each  time  that  he  peered  he  seemed  to  be  more  in- 
terested, and  his  smooth,  chubby  face  grew  redder. 

"Have  you  struck  it  rich,  Mr.  Greeley?" 

"Upon  my  word !"  And  straightening,  he  returned 
with  the  pan  held  close  under  his  nose.  "Marvelous! 
If  this  is  gold^ — and  I  judge  that  it  is — these  are  very 
rich  diggings  indeed." 

They  all  crowded  forward  to  inspect  the  pan.  The 
bottom  of  it  was  absolutely  yellow! 

"Hurrah  for  Mr.  Greeley!"  congratulated  the  other 
journalists,  and  hands  patted  him  roundly  on  the  back. 

"Gold!"  proclaimed  Pat.  "Faith,  an'  if  'tain't  a 
twinty  dollar  pan  I'll  ate  it.  Wance  I  washed  out 
siventeen  dollars  myself,  but  never  a  pan  like  that 


178      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

from  mere  a  few  riffles.    Keep  it,  Your  Honor.    Would 
ye  like  to  try  ag'in  ?" 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  declined  Editor  Greeley,  considerably 
flustered  as  he  painstakingly  transferred  the  flakes  and 
dust  to  his  buckskin  sack.  "This  is  proof  enough. 
Now  I  have  worked  with  my  own  hands  and  seen  the 
results  with  my  own  eyes — I  have  the  results  in  my 
very  pocket!  Nobody  can  gainsay  the  richness  of 
these  new  Western  mines,  and  the  truth  shall  be  an- 
nounced to  the  world  as  far  as  my  paper  can  carry  it." 
He  smiled  boyishly  on  Terry.  "I  beat  you,  my  son, 
didn't  I?  Well,  well!" 

"This  is  one  of  the  Pike's  Peak  Limited  boys,  Mr. 
Greeley,"  explained  Journalist  Richardson.  "You  re- 
member a  party  of  emigrants  on  the  trail  sent  word  by 
us  to  them,  in  case  we  ran  across  them  at  Cherry 
Creek  or  elsewhere." 

"Yes,  yes.  That  is  so,"  and  the  great  Horace 
Greeley  extended  his  hand  to  Terry.  "You  must  be 
Terry,  then — the  son  of  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Richards  in 
one  of  the  wagons." 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Terry,  wondering  how  Mr. 
Greeley  could  remember.  "They're  my  father  and 
mother.  The  other  outfit  lived  on  the  next  ranch  to 
us  in  the  Big  Blue  Valley." 

"And  they  had  another  boy,  and  a  little  girl  beside," 
said  Mr.  Greeley.  "That's  good.  I'm  glad  to  see 
young  blood  entering  this  vast  new  country  of  the 
United  States.  When  I  return  to  New  York  I  think  I 
shall  print  as  a  motto:  'Go  West,  young  man;  go 
West/  " 


HORACE  GREELEY  COMES  TO  TOWN    179 

After  shaking  hands  again  with  Pat,  the  Horace 
Greeley  party  rode  on  up  the  gulch,  for  further  inves- 
tigations. Pat  respectfully  watched  them;  then  he 
clapped  on  his  battered  hat  and  faced  Terry  with  a 
droll  wink. 

"B'  gorry,  that  was  good  wages  for  an  hour's  work. 
Oi'm  thinkin'  Mr.  Grayley'll  be  wishin'  to  sell  his 
Tribyune  an'  dig  in  the  dirt  along  with  the  rest  of  us 
here." 

"I  should  say !"  agreed  Terry.  "Jiminy,  this  is  awful 
rich  ground !  I  didn't  know  there  was  so  much  gold  in 
here,  did  you?  We  must  have  opened  up  a  regular 
layer  yesterday." 

"Don't  ye  tell  anybody,"  whispered  Pat,  "but  Oi 
opened  up  me  oyster-can  a  bit,  an'  sprinkled  a  few 
pinches  jist  to  make  the  visit  by  His  Honor  the  more 
interestin'.  Sure,"  continued  Pat,  "ye  wouldn't  want 
a  man  like  the  great  Horace  Grayley  to  soil  his  hands 
for  mere  a  dollar  or  two,  would  ye  ?  An'  it's  all  right. 
The  same  gold  came  out  o'  here  in  the  first  place,  an* 
wance  Oi  tuk  siventeen  dollars  an'  fifty  cents  from  a 
single  pan,  myself.  He  might  have  done  as  much  with- 
out my  help,  if  he'd  struck  the  proper  spot,  an'  I  only 
made  matters  'asy  for  him.  Now  he  can  print  the 
news  with  an  exclamation  point.  Well,  let's  clane  up 
the  sluice,  an'  give  back  to  the  oyster-can  what's  due  it 
an*  more  besides." 


CHAPTER   XVI 

TWO  TENDERFEET  ARRIVE 

WORD  was  spread  through  the  Gulch  for  a  mass- 
meeting  this  everting  to  listen  to  a  .speech  by  Horace 
Greeley ;  but  of  far  more  importance,  in  Terry's  mind, 
was  the  news  that  his  father  and  mother  and  the 
Stantons  were  on  the  Pike's  Peak  trail!  Yes,  sir; 
coming!  They  must  have  cut  loose  sooner  than  ex- 
pected. But  when  would  they  arrive  at  Cherry  Creek? 

Mr.  Richardson  had  not  said ;  still,  he  had  said  that 
they  were  well  equipped  and  were  "pushing  right 
along."  They  could  not  have  arrived  yet,  of  course; 
the  Greeley  stage  had  got  in  only  two  or  three  days 
ago,  and  the  stage  coaches  traveled  mostly  at  a  gallop 
and  fast  trot  so  as  to  cover  fifty  miles  a  day,  including 
stops  for  dinner  and  sleep.  The  best  teams  could  cover 
only  twenty  miles  a  day.  Anyway,  they  were  coming, 
and  he  was  wild  to  tell  Harry — and  Shep. 

So  as  soon  as  he  might  knock  off  work  on  the  Casey 
claim  he  bustled  to  the  cabin,  and  unloaded  the  news. 

He  and  Harry  united  in  a  war  dance.    Shep  barked. 

"That,"  quoth  Harry,  when  they  had  quieted  down 
again,  "is  a  joke  on  us."  He  rubbed  his  long  nose  and 
surveyed  Terry  quizzically.  "Which  of  us  will  wear 
the  clean  shirt,  to  receive  them  in?" 

180 


TWO  TENDERFEET  ARRIVE          181 

"Dunno,"  grinned  Terry.  "But  if  they  don't  get 
here  pretty  quick  there  won't  be  any  extra  shirt.  And 
one  of  your  boots  is  plumb  gone,  already !" 

"I  know  it,"  admitted  Harry.  "I'll  have  to  make 
moccasins.  But  we  can't  get  clothes  till  we  pay  our 
debt." 

"No,  sir!"  agreed  Terry.  "We'll  have  to  get  that 
hundred  dollars  ahead,  first."  For  upon  this  they 
were  determined. 

"We  sure  will,"  confirmed  Harry.  "We  wrote  that 
we  were  rich  with  a  gold  mine,  and  told  your  father 
the  hundred  dollars  would  be  waiting  here  for  him, 
and  a  lot  more  besides !  Huh !" 

"They  think  we're  rolling  in  wealth,"  asserted  Terry. 
"Now  they'll  laugh." 

"No,  I  don't  believe  they'll  laugh,"  said  Harry.  "We 
did  make  a  long  brag,  though.  But  chances  are  they 
didn't  get  that  letter  before  they  started.  We'll  write 
them,  to  Denver,  and  just  say  we're  doing  well.  Then 
they'll  know  where  we  are." 

"George'll  laugh,"  insisted  Terry.  "He'll  laugh 
when  he  finds  you're  cooking  pies  and  I'm  working  by 
the  day  for  Pat  Casey!  I  told  him  I'd  have  a  claim 
ready  for  him,  so  he  could  start  in  digging." 

"Ha,  ha!"  cheered  Harry.  "Well,  we've  got  the 
claims,  haven't  we?  And  he  can  dig  all  he  wants  to. 
We're  doing  the  best  we  can.  You're  earning  a  dollar 
and  a  half  a  day,  and  I'm  the  champion  cook  of  the 
diggin's — I  sold  three  pies  and  a  batch  of  biscuits  to- 
day, all  for  dust." 

"How  mttch've  we  got  in  our  oyster-can,  I  wonder?" 


1 82      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Quite  a  lot,  after  you've  been  paid  off,"  alleged 
Harry,  cheerfully.  "But  trouble  is,  flour  and  apples 
and  soda  and  salt  cost  so  plaguey  much — and  we  have 
to  eat,  ourselves.  So  that  means  coffee  and  meat  and 
— pshaw !  But  not  a  stitch  of  clothes  do  we  buy,  mind 
you,  till  we're  square  with  Father  Richards." 

"Don't  believe  Dad'll  need  the  hundred  dollars,"  de- 
clared Terry. 

"Maybe  he  will  and  maybe  he  won't,"  answered 
Harry.  "But  we  let  on  we  had  a  bonanza,  and  now 
we've  got  to  make  good.  That's  the  joke." 

"Shucks !"  bemoaned  Terry.  "We  can't  go  down  to 
Denver  or  Auraria  in  these  rigs,  to  meet  real  folks. 
We  look  like — like — I  don't  know  what.  Your  pants 
are  split  clear  across  the  knee." 

"No  worse  split  than  yours,"  retorted  Harry.  "And 
my  best  boot  is  better  than  your  best  one !" 

"We'll  have  to  stay  out  of  sight  in  the  mountains," 
asserted  Terry,  "till  we  get  enough  dust  to  buy  clothes 
with." 

"Well,"  said  Harry,  "here's  where  we  belong.  We're 
all  right  for  Gregory  Gulch — and  we  don't  know  when 
to  meet  the  folks,  anyway.  By  the  time  they  turn  up 
we  may  have  our  can  heaping  full  from  my  pies  and 
your  wages,  or  we  may  be  regularly  sluicing  out  the 
gold  from  the  Golden  Prize  and  the  True  Blue,  and  go 
down  to  Denver  in  time  to  put  on  broadcloth  and  brand 
new  boots !" 

"If  we  only  had  water,"  sighed  Terry. 

"That's  the  one  thing  that  keeps  us  from  being  mil- 
lionaires," sighed  Harry.  "And  it's  one  thing  or  an- 


TWO  TENDERFEET  ARRIVE          183 

other  with  most  people — or  else  we'd  all  be  millionaires. 
Counting  up  beforehand  is  the  easiest  part  of  getting 
rich." 

"Just  the  same,  I  know  this  much,"  blurted  Terry. 
"Some  day  all  of  a  sudden  George  Stanton  will  come 
straight  into  this  gulch,  with  his  pick  and  spade,  looking 
for  the  gold  that  he'll  say  we  promised  him." 

"Then  we'll  put  him  to  work  baking,  or  digging  with 
you  and  Pat,"  laughed  Harry. 

The  mass  meeting  that  evening  to  hear  Horace 
Greeley  speak  was  a  great  affair.  Everybody  went — 
that  is,  everybody  who  wanted  to.  Clothes  did  not 
matter.  .  At  least  2,000  people  gathered,  and  they  wore 
all  kinds  of  garb,  from  buckskin  to  rags.  They  stood 
about,  or  sat  upon  the  ground  and  stumps  and  logs; 
and  Mr.  Greeley,  in  a  long  whitish  coat,  addressed 
them,  after  having  been  given  three  cheers. 

He  said  that  his  day's  trip  through  the  diggin's  had 
convinced  him  that  this  was  a  gold  region  as  rich  as 
California,  and  now  he  was  of  the  opinion  that  a  new 
State  should  be  formed.  He  urged  the  miners  to  work 
hard  and  faithfully,  and  not  drink  or  gamble.  It  was 
work  instead  of  gambling  and  running  about  that 
would  make  them  successful.  He  hoped  that  they 
all  would  live  honest,  upright  lives,  just  as  though  their 
home  folks  were  with  them;  and  if  anybody  would  not 
so  live,  he  should  be  placed  upon  a  horse  or  mule  and 
told  to  ride  and  not  come  back.  He  said  that  one  pur- 
pose in  his  visiting  the  Pike's  Peak  country  was  to  find 
out  the  truth  regarding  the  mines;  but  that  another 
purpose  was  to  cross  the  continent  and  get  information 


184      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

that  would  hasten  the  building  of  a  railway — the  Pa- 
cific Railway,  to  extend  from  the  Missouri  River  to 
the  Pacific  Ocean! 

Hooray  for  Horace  Greeley!     And  again  hooray! 

Mr.  Richardson  spoke,  and  so  did  Mr.  Willams,  the 
Pike's  Peak  Express  Co.  superintendent,  and  others. 
They  all  were  cheered,  also. 

"It's  funny  we  don't  see  Sol  Judy  anywhere,  isn't 
it?"  remarked  Terry,  as  after  another  rousing  round 
of  cheers  for  the  visitors,  and  the  Gregory  Biggin's, 
and  a  new  State  of  Jefferson,  the  meeting  broke  up. 
"I  thought  we  might  'spy  him  in  that  crowd." 

"So  did  I,"  admitted  Harry.  "But  he'll  turn  up 
again.  He  always  does." 

The  Horace  Greeley  party  spent  the  next  day  in  the 
diggin's,  and  then  went  back  to  Denver.  It  was  under- 
stood that  they  had  decided  to  make  a  favorable  report 
to  their  papers,  saying  that  there  was  plenty  of  gold 
to  be  found  by  those  who  knew  how  to  find  it;  but 
that  people  who  were  doing  well  in  business  and  on 
their  farms  in  the  East  ought  to  stay  there  instead  of 
starting  off  on  a  wild-goose  chase. 

"That's  right,"  supported  Harry.  "Only  about  one 
person  in  ten  in  this  very  gulch  is  making  any  money 
mining.  The  rest  of  us  are  just  living  and  hoping." 

He  continued  his  cooking,  and  Terry  continued  to 
work  for  Pat.  That  was  hard  work,  too — all  day  in 
the  muddy  soil,  digging,  and  dumping  the  heavy 
spadesful  into  the  sluice,  and  stirring,  and  running 
along  to  follow  the  dirt  down,  and  once  or  twice  each 
day  cleaning  up  the  sluices.  But  Harry  had  no  easy 


TWO  TENDERFEET  ARRIVE  185 

job,  either.  Fire  wood  was  getting  scarcer  and  needs 
must  be  carried  farther — and  the  rusty  stove  burned  a 
terrible  amount.  And  water  must  be  carried  up  by  the 
bucket.  And  Jenny  must  be  attended  to,  so  that  she 
should  have  water  and  grazing.  And  the  washing  done. 
And  the  meals  got,  the  same  as  ever.  And  there  was 
the  worry  over  obtaining  a  supply  of  flour  and  dried 
apples — especially  the  dried  apples,  for  the  pies. 

The  pies  contracted  for  by  Pat  were  the  chief  source 
of  income  in  the  cooking  line,  although  occasionally 
Harry  did  sell  a  pie  or  some  bread  to  other  customers. 
But  more  women  were  arriving  in  the  gulch,  and  they, 
too,  did  cooking. 

The  oyster-can  grew  heavier  only  very  slowly.  What 
with  the  high  prices  of  flour  and  apples  and  other 
stuff,  and  what  with  the  amount  of  provisions  they  ate 
themselves,  there  really  was  not  so  much  profit  in  cook- 
ing, after  all. 

But  toward  the  last  week  of  June  Harry  calculated 
that  the  dust  in  the  oyster-can  was  approaching  the 
$100  sum.  And  now  they  both  began  to  wonder  again 
when  the  folks  and  the  Stantons  would  appear. 

Then  the  not  unexpected  occurred. 

Terry  was  deep  down  in  Pat's  pit  and  toiling  lustily, 
and  was  already  mud  and  dirt  from  crown  to  soles, 
when  from  above  somebody  hailed  him.  George  Stan- 
ton,  of  course!  Not  only  George,  but  Virgie,  too. 
They  were  peering  in,  George  afoot  and  Virgie  from 
the  back  of  the  Indian  pony  that  last  year  had  been 
captured  from  Thunder  Horse,  the  mean  Kiowa. 

George  wore  a  natty  buckskin  suit,  and  his  revolver, 


i86      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

of  make-believe  wooden  hammer;  and  with  a  blanket 
roll  on  his  back,  and  a  new  pick  and  spade  on  his  shoul- 
der, and  a  new  gold-pan  slung  at  his  side,  he  evidently 
was  all  prepared  for  business.  Virgie  wore  a  sunbon- 
net  and  a  cleanish  gingham  dress.  They  both  looked 
so  spic  and  span  that  Terry  realized  how  different  he 
looked,  himself.  But  with  an  instant  whoop  of  wel- 
come he  clambered  out  to  shake  hands. 

"Hello,  George!  Hello,  Virgie!  Cracky,  I'm  glad 
to  see  you!  When  did  you  get  in?  Where  are  the 
folks?" 

"Down  in  Denver,"  answered  George.  "Virgie  and 
I  came  up  with  some  people  we  met  on  the  trail.  Is 
this  your  mine  ?  Did  you  find  one  for  me,  too  ?" 

"You* re  awful  dirty,"  accused  Virgie,  wiping  her 
hand  on  her  dress. 

"I  reckon  I  am,  Virgie,"  agreed  Terry.  "So'd  you 
and  George  be,  if  you  weren't  tenderfeet.  How'd  you 
know  where  to  find  us  ?  Did  you  get  our  letters  ?" 

"Yes;  got  the  one  you  wrote  from  Denver — got  it 
at  Manhattan,  just  as  we  were  starting.  We  came 
through  in  twenty-one  days.  Your  dad  and  mine  have 
a  cracking  good  team  apiece.  And  we  got  another 
you  wrote  to  Denver  from  these  diggings.  Found  it 
waiting  for  us.  Is  this  your  mine?  Where's  Harry? 
Did  you  discover  one  for  me  ?  Where's  the  gold  ?  We 
hear  you've  struck  it  rich !  The  folks  sent  us  up  to  see. 
Do  you  want  them,  too?" 

"Who  told  you  we'd  struck  it  rich?"  demanded 
Terry. 

"A  sick  boy  down  at  Denver.    He  heard  us  asking 


TWO  TENDERFEET  ARRIVE  187 

for  our  mail,  and  asked  if  your  father  was  any  kin  of 
yours.  He  says  he  knows  your  mine;  it's  the  Golden 
Prize,  and  it's  a  bonanza;  regular  humdinger!  So  I 
was  looking  for  it,  and  I  saw  the  top  of  your  hat,  and 
I  told  Virgie :  There's  Terry  Richards'  hat,  and  I  bet 
he's  under  it!'  Is  this  the  mine?  Is  that  other  man 
working  for  you?  Where's  Harry?  Shall  I  get  down 
in  and  dig,  too?  I'm  not  afraid  of  dirt." 

"Naw,  this  isn't  the  Golden  Prize,"  confessed  Terry, 
bluffly.  "It's  another  mine — belongs  to  Pat  Casey. 
I'm  helping  him.  But  I'll  quit  and  take  you  over  to 
the  cabin.  Tisn't  far.  Wait  till  I  tell  Pat." 

Pat  likewise  was  out  of  the  pit,  and  had  visitors : 
two  men  talking  at  him  hotly  and  gesturing  with  their 
fists,  while  Pat  responded  in  kind.  They  all  seemed  to 
be  having  an  angry  argument. 

"Oh,  Pat !"  appealed  Terry.  "I'm  going  over  to  the 
cabin  a  minute,  if  you  don't  mind.  I've  got  some 
friends  to  show  about." 

"Sure,  go  on,"  bade  Pat.  "Stay  the  mornin',  if  ye 
like.  There'll  be  no  more  dirt  turned  on  this  property 
till  afternoon  ag'in,  annyhow — barrin'  Oi  don't  start 
a  graveyard  in  your  absince." 

That  was  an  odd  remark,  but  Pat  appeared  to  be  so 
enraged  at  something  or  other  newly  come  up  that 
Terry  did  not  delay  to  interfere  farther. 

"All  right ;  let's  go,"  he  said  to  George  and  Virgie. 

He  led  off;  George  stumped  behind,  weighted  with 
blanket  roll,  wooden-hammer  revolver,  pan,  and  pick 
and  spade ;  Virgie  followed  on  her  pony.  Terry,  in  his 
mud  and  ragged  clothes,  felt  like  an  old-timer,  as  he 


188      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

conducted  these  "tender feet"  to  the  cabin  home  in  the 
busy  gulch. 

"Golly,  there  are  a  lot  of  people  in  here,  aren't 
there  ?"  panted  George,  impressed  by  the  many  curious 
sights.  "Are  they  all  making  their  pile?" 

"No,  I  should  say  not,  yet.    But  they're  all  trying." 

"How  much  do  you  think  you've  got  already?  A 
thousand  dollars  ?" 

"Uh-uh.  We  haven't  weighed  it ;  haven't  any  scales." 

"I  want  to  see  some  gold,"  piped  Virgie. 

"I'll  show  you  some  when  we  get  to  the  cabin," 
promised  Terry. 

"Is  Harry  at  the  cabin  ?"  queried  George. 

"Yes ;  we'll  surprise  him." 

"What's  he  doing?  Is  the  cabin  at  your  mine ?  Is 
he  mining  there  while  you're  mining  at  that  other 
place  ?  Who's  Pat  Casey  ?  Why  don't  you  and  Harry 
mine  together?" 

"I  guess  he's  cooking.  Somebody  has  to  cook,"  ex- 
plained Terry.  "And  clean  up." 

"Well,  you  need  cleaning  up,  all  right,"  asserted 
George.  "Reckon  you'd  better  not  let  your  mother  see 
you  in  those  clothes !  She'd  have  a  fit." 

"Aw,  we  old  miners  all  dress  like  this,"  retorted 
Terry.  "It's  only  tenderfeet  who  fix  up." 

"Nobody'd  take  you  for  a  millionaire,  that's  sure," 
scoffed  George.  "Say!"  he  added.  "You  sold  Duke, 
didn't  you?  I  saw  him  in  a  show,  there  at  Denver — 
or  Auraria,  I  mean,  but  it's  all  the  same  thing.  What'd 
you  do  that  for  ?  They're  going  to  match  him  with  a 
bear  as  soon  as  they  can  find  the  beai» — have  a  fight !" 


TWO  TENDERFEET  ARRIVE  189 

"Oh,  shucks !"  deplored  Terry.  "Did  you  see  Thun- 
der Horse's  head,  too  ?" 

"Was  that  Thunder  Horse?  Didn't  look  like  him 
now!  Where'd  they  get  his  head?  Thought  Pine 
Knot  Ike  had  it.  You  said  so  in  your  letter." 

"Yes,  he  did  have  it  on  the  trail.  But  Mr.  O'Reilly 
bought  it  for  the  show.  And  Pine  Knot  Ike's  in  here. 
He's  with  a  gang  not  very  far  from  us." 

"I  don't  like  Thunder  Horse,  and  I'm  hungry/'  piped 
Virgie. 

"We'll  have  something  to  eat  in  a  jiffy,"  comforted 
Terry.  "There's  the  cabin." 

"Which  one?"  queried  George. 

"That  one  with  the  sign  on.  See?  On  that  little 
rise." 

"What  does  the  sign  say— Tike's  Peak  Limited'? 
Or  The  Golden  Prize'?"  urged  George.  "'Golden 
Prize  Mine/  I  bet." 

"I  see  Harry!  We're  going  to  s'prise  Harry,"  re- 
joiced Virgie. 

That  seemed  evident,  for  Harry  was  sitting  against 
the  cabin  wall,  under  the  sign,  and  busily  engaged. 

"He's  panning  gold,  isn't  he?"  exclaimed  George, 
excited. 

"Naw,"  said  Terry,  weakly.  "He's  panning  dough, 
I  reckon." 

"Oh,  look!"  cried  Virgie. 

For  Harry  had  sprung  up  at  the  approach  of  an- 
other man  around  the  corner  of  the  cabin — was  telling 
him  to  get  out — the  man  would  not  go — jumped  for 
Harry — got  the  pan  of  dough  square  on  the  head — 


190      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

and  they  closed  and  swayed,  wrestling.  Shep  ap- 
peared, to  circle  and  bark  and  snap. 

Virgie  screamed. 

"That's  Pine  Knot  Ike !"  gasped  Terry,  jumping  for- 
ward. 

And  George,  dropping  pick  and  spade  and  ducking 
from  his  blanket  roll,  fairly  streaked  it,  shouting  and 
flourishing  his  wooden-hammer  revolver.  He  easily 
beat  Terry. 

Suddenly  Pine  Knot  Ike  went  staggering  from  one 
of  Harry's  clever  trips,  and  saw  George  and  the  big 
revolver.  Away  he  lunged,  legging  it  and  making  an 
odd  sight  with  his  head  and  shoulders  plastered  by 
dough,  and  Shep  nipping  at  his  trousers'  seat. 

"You'd  better  get,"  threatened  George,  pursuingt 
"or  I'll  shoot  you  into  little  bits !" 

Harry  quickly  drew  back  his  arm  and  threw — the 
piece  of  rock  struck  Ike  between  the  shoulders.  Where- 
upon, as  if  thinking  that  he  really  had  been  shot,  Ike 
uttered  a  loud  yelp,  gave  a  prodigious  leap,  and  legged 
faster. 

"Bang!"  shouted  George. 

When  Terry  and  Virgie  arrived,  George  was  re- 
turning, considerably  swelled  up  with  the  triumph  of 
his  wooden-hammer  gun,  and  Harry  was  laughing. 

"There  go  four  dollars'  worth  of  dough  and  my 
pocket  piece.  Howdy,  Virgie  ?  Hello,  George !  Much 
obliged.  Where  are  the  other  folks?" 

"They're  down  at  Cherry  Creek.    We  came " 

"What  was  the  matter?  What'd  he  want?"  inter- 
rupted Terry.  "The  big  lummix!" 


TWO  TENDERFEET  ARRIVE          191 

"I  don't  know.  He  was  hanging  'round — I  'spied 
him  poking  about  on  that  other  claim  yonder,  and 
when  I  ordered  him  off  with  the  shot-gun  he  said 
something  about  'taking  it  out  of  my  hide/  So  he 
sneaked  in  on  me  when  I  wasn't  looking.  I  don't  think 
my  hide  would  pan  out  much,  but  he  might  get  good 
color  out  of  Terry's  and  my  clothes." 

"Aw !"  blurted  George,  who  now  had  read  the 

sign.  "  'Gregory  Gulch  Bakery !  Harry  Revere  & 
Co.'!  What  do  you  mean  by  that?  I  thought  you 
had  a  gold  mine !" 

"So  we  have,"  chuckled  Harry.  "At  two  dollars  a 
pie,  and  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  day  loading  Pat  Casey's 
sluice." 

George  indignantly  flung  his  hat  on  the  ground. 

"But  I  didn't  come  'way  out  here  to  bake  pies  or 
work  for  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  day,"  he  accused,  as  if 
they  were  to  blame.  "We-all  thought  you  were  rich, 
and  I  was  going  to  dig  on  my  own  hook  and  get  rich, 
too." 

Virgie,  who  did  not  understand,  but  sensed  a  disap- 
pointment, began  to  wail. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

ANOTHER  CALL  FOR  HUSTLE 

THEY  calmed  Virgie,  George  stalked  out  and  glumly 
brought  in  his  brand  new  pick  and  spade,  and  during 
dinner  Harry  and  Terry  tried  to  explain. 

"You  see,  we've  got  our  mines  ready,  all  right,"  con- 
cluded Terry,  "but  we  can't  work  'em." 

"Why  don't  you  make  those  fellows  give  you  water, 
then?"  demanded  the  spunky  George.  "Let's  all  go 
over  there  tonight  with  our  guns  and  open  a  ditch.  If 
my  gun  would  shoot  I'd  go  alone." 

"Trouble  is,  their  guns  do  shoot,  I  reckon,"  drawled 
Harry.  "And  another  trouble  is,  the  water  all  around 
is  petering  out  anyway.  That  stream  below  is  scarcely 
a  trickle.  Pretty  soon  we'll  be  carrying  our  drinking 
and  cooking  water  from  Clear  Creek,  and  that's  a 
mighty  long  tote." 

"Pat  says  there's  talk  of  digging  a  big  ditch  and 
fetching  water  into  the. gulch  from  a  river  over  yon- 
der," informed  Terry.  "But  it  will  cost  money,  and 
anybody  who  uses  the  water  will  have  to  buy  by  the 
inch." 

"Why  don't  we  wait  for  it?"  proposed  George. 
"You've  got  some  money  saved  up,  and  you're  making 

192 


ANOTHER  CALL  FOR  HUSTLE         193 

more,  aren't  you?  Your  father  didn't  say  anything 
about  wanting  his  hundred  dollars.  He  grub-staked 
you,  on  a  chance." 

"Yes,  and  his  chance  is  powerful  slim,"  retorted 
Harry.  "He  can  do  more  with  tne  hundred  dollars 
than  he  can  with  a  dry  prospect.  A  hundred  dollars 
is  all  we've  been  offered  for  it,  and  so  his  half  interest 
amounts  to  only  $50,  and  he'd  lose  out.  We'll  pay 
him  what  we  borrowed  and  we'll  do  the  waiting." 

"Did  they  sell  the  ranches?"  asked  Terry. 

"Part  trade,  and  the  rest  is  to  come  out  of  the  crops. 
Guess  they  haven't  got  very  much  cash  yet,"  answered 
George. 

"That  settles  it,"  pronounced  Harry.  "When  you 
go  down  you  can  take  our  dust.  I  reckon  there's  near 
a  hundred  dollars." 

"I'm  not  going  down,  for  a  while,"  declared  George. 
"I'll  throw  in  with  you  fellows.  Guess  I  can  find 
something  to  do." 

"What!" 

"That's  right,"  and  George  stubbornly  wagged  his 
head.  "Maybe  I  won't  get  rich,  but  I  can  stick.  I  can 
dig  around  here,  can't  I?  And  tote  water  and  help 
with  the  cooking?" 

"Hurrah !"  cheered  Terry.  "He  can  have  the  True 
Blue  and  dig  there;  but  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Pat 
would  hire  him.  We  need  another  man." 

"I  can  dig  better  than  I  can  bake,"  admitted  George. 
"I'll  do  something  to  earn  my  keep.  I  mean  to  stay 
and  help  out,  Virgie  can  go  back  in  the  morning  with 
those  people  who  brought  us  in.  They're  just  looking 


I94      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

about.  Where  does  the  True  Blue  lie  ?  Can  I  have  it  ? 
Have  you  dug  much  there?" 

"No.  It's  a  drier  claim  than  this.  The  water  was 
on  our  side,  so  we  thought  we'd  clean  up  the  Golden 
Prize  first." 

"How  much  land  is  the  True  Blue?" 

"One  hundred  feet  long  and  fifty  feet  wide,  same  as 
the  Golden  Prize.  We  run  one  hundred  feet  from 
the  cabin  and  into  that  little  draw,  and  then  the  True 
Blue  begins." 

George  stood  up  and  gazed.  His  new  property  did 
not  seem  to  impress  him  very  favorably ;  and  indeed  it 
was  not  especially  inviting,  being  a  bare  rocky  slope, 
pitted  here  and  there  with  the  shallow  prospect  holes 
of  the  preacher. 

"Shucks !"  he  criticized.  "It's  mostly  dirt  and  stones. 
I  haven't  got  even  that  trough." 

"You  mean  'sluice/ '  grandly  corrected  Terry. 
"  'Trough'  is  a  tenderfoot  word.  All  you  can  do  is 
pan,  anyway,  with  a  bucket  of  water.  But  I've  got  to 
go  back  to  Pat." 

"Might  as  well  ask  him  for  a  job  for  me,  will  you?" 
responded  George.  "I'll  take  it  unless  I  strike  things 
rich  first,  and  can  make  more  money  panning." 

Terry  trudged  away.  George  helped  Harry  with 
the  dishes,  then  carried  a  bucketful  of  water  to  his 
claim  and  proceeded  to  "mine."  This  was  working 
under  difficulties,  and  Virgie,  who  had  followed  close 
after,  proudly  lugging  his  spade,  soon  returned. 

"I  don't  think  that's  much  fun,"  she  stated. 

"Well,  it  isn't,"  agreed  Harry.    "And  'most  of  the 


ANOTHER  CALL  FOR  HUSTLE         195 

folks  who  expected  to  get  rich  easy  think  the  same 
way." 

Presently  George  gave  up,  out  of  humor.  He  was 
not  only  tired,  but  hot  and  grimy,  too. 

"There's  not  a  blamed  sign  of  gold  in  that  whole 
claim,"  he  crossly  declared.  "You  fellows  got  cheated. 
You  can  have  it  back  again.  I'll  dig  for  Pat  Casey. 
Will  he  pay  me  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  day?" 

"He  ought  to  pay  you  the  same  he  pays  Terry. 
That's  three  dollars  a  day  for  you  two,  and  four  dol- 
lars a  day  for  me,  and  some  days  I  make  five — one  day 

I  made  seven,  and  on  Sundays  I'm  sure  of  six ! 

Why,  there's  a  gold  mine  in  itself.  We'll  be  flying 
high,"  encouraged  Harry. 

George  braced  up.      But 

"Huh!"  he  grunted.  "  Tisn't  a  pound  a  day, 
though." 

"Terry's  coming,"  piped  Virgie. 

So  he  was — not  only  coming,  but  bringing  his  tools 
with  him,  and  also  a  decidedly  disgusted  aspect. 

"Don't  you  work  any  more?"  called  George. 
"Doesn't  he  want  me?" 

"Naw !"  growled  Terry,  throwing  down  his  pick  and 
spade.  "He's  busted.  And  he  doesn't  want  any  more 
pies,  either.  Here  are  the  last  two.  He  can't  eat  'em — 
says  he  has  indigestion." 

"Well,  don't  step  on  them,"  warned  Harry.  "We 
can  eat  them.  But  how  is  he  'busted'  ?" 

"It  isn't  his  claim,"  answered  Terry.  "That  is, 
maybe  he  doesn't  own  it  at  all.  Some  men  he  was 
arguing  with  this  morning  say  it's  theirs.  So  nobody'll 


196      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

work  there  till  things  are  settled  up.  And  Pat's  as 
mad  as  a  hornet.  They  say  all  the  dust  in  his  oyster- 
can  is  theirs,  too,  because  he  got  it  out  of  that  hole." 

"Whew!'1  mused  Harry.  "The  Extra  Limited  & 
Co.  seem  to  be  more  limited  than  ever.  And  that's 
hard  luck  for  Pat." 

"What'll  we  all  do,  then?"  queried  George,  aghast. 
"Light  out  and  go  down  to  Denver  ?" 

"Not  by  a  jugful !"  And  Harry  swung  the  two  pies. 
"We're  here  to  stick.  I  reckon  three  able-bodied  men 
and  a  dog  and  a  nice  yellow  mule  can  earn  a  living 
somehow." 

"I'll  stay,"  asserted  Terry. 

"So  will  I,"  asserted  George. 

"I'll  stay.    I'll  help  Harry  cook,"  proffered  Virgie. 

Harry  picked  her  up  and  kissed  her. 

"No,  you  can't,  Virgie.  You  go  to  the  folks  and 
tell  them  we're  well  and  hustling  and  never  say  die, 
and  pretty  soon  we'll  be  millionaires.  But  you  see  you 
can't  stay  with  us,  because  we're  liable  to  be  traveling 
'round,  looking  for  the  gold,  and  we  may  have  to  sleep 
in  the  rain,  and  sometimes  there  won't  be  much  to 
cook." 

Virgie  wept.     She  was  only  a  little  girl,  you  know. 

"But  I  want  a  mine,"  she  said.  "Don't  I  get  any 
mine?" 

"Of  course  you  do,"  assured  Harry.  "You  can 
have  the  mine  George  was  working  on.  It's  named  the 
True  Blue.  George  doesn't  want  it.  And  it's  a  real 
mine — see  those  holes?" 

"Sure.     You  can  have  it,  for  all  of  me," 


ANOTHER  CALL  FOR  HUSTLE         197 

Virgie's  tears  dried  instantly. 

"All  right.  I'll  dig  in  it."  And  off  she  hurried, 
with  George's  pan,  in  a  moment  to  be  occupied  poking 
into  the  dirt  with  a  stick. 

"Let's  hold  a  council,  boys,"  proposed  Harry.  "Pat 
was  my  best  customer,  for  pies,  and  I  don't  think  I'll 
bother  any  more  with  this  cooking  business.  I  reckon 
we'll  have  to  make  a  tour  of  the  diggin's  and  offer  the 
services  of  three  men  and  a  mule.  Jenny '11  need  to 
help,  if  she  expects  to  eat.  There's  not  much  free 
grazing  left  around  these  claims." 

While  they  were  discussing  ways  and  means,  Virgie 
toiled  in  from  her  "mine,"  carrying  the  empty  pan. 

"I  sha'n't  dig  any  more,"  she  announced.  "I'm 
tired." 

"What  have  you  got  in  your  hand,  Virgie?" 

"A  piece  of  my  mine,"  and  Virgie  extended  her 
prize.  "I'm  going  to  take  a  piece  of  my  mine  down  to 
show  papa." 

"That's  a  good  idea,"  approved  Harry.  "Take  him 
a  sample,  so  as  to  prove  to  him." 

"Is  it  gold  ?"  invited  Virgie. 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Harry,  kindly.  "It  looks 
just  like  the  pocket-piece  I  threw  at  Ike.  Wait.  I'll 
see." 

But  although  he  searched  among  the  stones  and 
bushes  at  the  place  where  the  pocket-piece  might  have 
bounded  from  Ike's  back,  he  did  not  come  across  it, 
and  neither  did  Terry  nor  George. 

"It  was  the  same  kind  of  quartz,  though,"  he  in- 
sisted. "Where  did  you  find  your  piece,  Virgie?" 


198      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Over  there,"  answered  Virgie,  vaguely.  "I  don't 
remember.  Can't  I  have  it?  Isn't  it  gold?  That's  a 
gold  mine." 

"Maybe  it  is  gold,  from  the  True  Blue  mine.  You 
can  tell  your  father  you  mined  it,"  bantered  Harry. 

"Goody!"  And  Virgie  tightly  clutched  it.  "And  I 
can  buy  Duke  with  it.  They're  going  to  make  him 
fight  a  bear  and  I  don't  want  him  to  fight  a  bear." 

"What's  that  ?"  Harry's  voice  rang  sharply.  "Who 
said  so?" 

"Sure,"  affirmed  George.  "We  saw  him,  in  a  show. 
And  there's  a  sign  up  telling  folks  to  bring  in  a  bear 
and  have  a  match." 

"Great  Scotland!  Why  didn't  you  mention  it  be- 
fore?" Harry  was  visibly  disturbed. 

"I  did,  to  Terry." 

"Yes,  he  did,  but  I'd  forgotten,"  supported  Terry. 
"I  was  intending  to  speak  about  it,  but  these  other 
things  put  me  off  the  track." 

"What'd  you  sell  him  for?"  taxed  George. 
"Shouldn't  think  you'd  have  sold  him.  He's  awful 
peaked,  shut  up  there." 

"Well,  we  didn't  sell  him  for  that,  anyway,"  de- 
clared Harry.  "Good-bye.  You  fellows  stay  here. 
I'm  going." 

"Where?" 

"Down  there — to  Denver  and  Auraria.  We'll  go 
and  rescue  Duke,  won't  we,  Virgie?" 

"You  don't  need  to  go,  do  you?  The  folks  can 
rescue  him.  We'll  tell  Virgie  to  ask  them  to,"  pro- 
posed Terry.  "They'll  do  it." 


ANOTHER  CALL  FOR  HUSTLE         199 

"No,  sir !"  rapped  Harry.  "I  got  him  into  that  mess 
and  I'll  get  him  out  if  it  takes  every  cent  we  have. 
We  can  pay  Father  Richards  by  selling  the  mine,  if 
necessary ;  but  Duke  sha'n't  fight  any  bear.  That  wasn't 
the  bargain."  And  he  bolted  into  the  cabin. 

Terry  gazed  at  George;  George  solemnly  gazed  at 
Terry.  It  was  a  day  of  sudden  changes  in  plans. 

"Shucks !  Duke  oughtn't  to  be  made  to  fight  a  bear, 
though,"  murmured  Terry. 

"I  should  say  not — I  call  that  downright  cruel," 
agreed  George.  "But  the  bear  wasn't  there  yet.  Any- 
way, maybe  the  man  won't  sell." 

"He'll  have  to,  if  Harry  once  gets  after  him.  And 
the  folks  will  help  now,"  reminded  Terry,  hopefully. 

"I'll  help,"  chirped  Virgie.  "I'll  help  with  my 
mine." 

Harry  bustled  out.  He  had  his  blanket  and  a  small 
package  in  some  sacking. 

"Of  course  there's  no  use  in  the  rest  of  you  going," 
he  said.  "I've  taken  most  of  our  'pile,'  Terry,  but  I've 
left  you  a  pinch  of  dust  and  the  two  pies,  and  there's 
flour  and  stuff  yet.  I'll  leave  you  Jenny,  too.  You 
and  George  and  Jenny  can  be  getting  me  a  job  while 
you're  getting  for  yourselves.  I'll  be  back  as  soon  as  I 
save  Duke  from  being  bear  meat.  If  you  can't  find 
any  paying  jobs  here,  sell  the  blamed  old  claims,  and 
we'll  prospect  in  better  diggin's.  Climb  on  your  pony, 
Virgie.  Tell  'em  good-bye." 

"You  mustn't  sell  my  mine,"  objected  Virgie,  from 
the  saddle  of  the  Indian  pony.  "I  don't  want  it  sold." 

"Well,  they  can  sell  the  Golden  Prize,  if  they  have 


200      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

to,"  laughed  Harry.  "So  long,  fellows.  You'll  see 
Duke  and  me  later.* 

Away  he  strode  at  rapid  limp — dear  old  Harry! — 
with  Virgie  on  her  ambling  pony  keeping  pace  beside 
him,  into  the  gulch  and  on. 

"Guess  we'll  have  to  rustle/*  spoke  Terry,  to  George, 
as  they  watched  him  and  Virgie  out  of  sight. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

NEVER  SAY  DIE! 

GREGORY  GULCH  was  now  very  different  in  appear- 
ance from  that  same  gulch  into  which  the  Extra 
Limited  had  entered  about  a  month  ago.  It  resembled 
a  noisy,  booming  new  town.  Almost  every  foot  of 
lower  ground  was  occupied.  A  great  deal  of  the  tim- 
ber had  been  cut  from  the  ridges  and  slopes,  to  be  used 
in  cabins  and  sluices  and  for  fuel;  and  the  axes  were 
merrily  ringing,  in  tune  with  the  staccato  of  hammers 
and  the  thud  of  picks. 

More  families  had  arrived,  so  that  women  were  fre- 
quently seen,  and  some  of  the  cabins  looked  exceed- 
ingly "homey."  There  were  many  more  grocery  stores 
and  general  supply  stores,  in  tents  or  log  buildings. 
Where  Editor  William  Byers'  tent  had  stood,  half-way 
up  the  gulch,  town  lots  for  the  new  Central  City  had 
been  staked  out  and  were  selling  as  high  as  $500 
apiece ! 

Flour  was  $20  a  sack  of  100  pounds,  eggs  were  $2.50 
a  dozen,  and  milk  fifty  cents  a  quart.  But  money  was 
very  cheap,  and  prices  seemed  to  cut  little  figure,  for 
were  not  men  digging,  digging,  digging,  and  emptying 
their  dirt  into  rockers,  or  carrying  it  in  gunny  sacks 

201 


202      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

and  in  sleds  over  pine-trunk  tracks,  to  their  sluices,  and 
washing  out  the  dust  (some  of  them)  to  the  amount  of 
$200  a  day  ? 

At  night  the  hundreds  of  camp  fires  lighted  the 
gulch  redly  from  side  to  side;  and  already  there  had 
been  a  great  forest  fire,  on  the  new  trail  in  from  the 
Platte,  which  had  burned  to  death  three  men  and  a  dog. 

The  trail  itself  was  lively,  said  George,  with  gold- 
seekers  still  trudging  into  the  mountains,  singing,  "I'm 
bound  to  the  land  of  gold,"  and  under  Table  Mountain 
had  been  started,  on  Clear  Creek,  a  town  named  "Gold- 
en City."  It  contained  about  thirty  cabins  and  nearly 
a  thousand  people,  living  in  the  cabins  or  camping ! 

And  Denver  and  Auraria  were  booming,  also. 

Amidst  such  apparent  prosperity  it  did  seem  as 
though  persons  anxious  to  work  could  find  work  that 
would  pay.  But  the  trouble  was  that  Gregory  Gulch 
had  become  over-populated.  The  newcomers  asserted 
that  the  old-timers,  like  the  Gregory  crowd,  had  lo- 
cated too  much  ground,  and  that  the  claims  ought  to 
be  cut  down  from  one  hundred  feet  to  twenty-five  feet, 
so  as  to  give  more  people  a  chance.  This  movement 
did  not  prove  out,  because  when  a  miners5  meeting  was 
held,  to  make  changes  in  the  regulations,  the  old-timers 
put  in  their  own  men  as  officers  and  won. 

Consequently,  what  with  the  high  prices  of  food  and 
lumber,  and  the  many  claims  that  yielded  scarcely  any- 
thing, and  the  constant  rush  to  get  other  claims  wher- 
ever possible,  a  lot  of  people  were  glad  to  turn  their 
hands  to  any  kind  of  work. 

Terry  and  George  tramped  clear  up  the  gulch,  in- 


NEVER  SAY  DIE!  203 

quiring  at  sluice  and  rocker  and  prospect  hole,  and  even 
at  tents  and  cabins. 

"Need  any  help?"  Or:  "Do  you  know  of  a  job  we 
can  get  ?"  Or :  "Could  you  use  a  couple  of  husky  boys 
around  here?" 

Some  parties  were  so  busy  that  they  only  shook 
their  heads,  without  pausing.  Others  directed  them  on, 
or  to  right  or  left.  But  after  having  volunteered  in 
vain  as  miners,  carpenters,  and  even  as  wood-choppers, 
they  reached  the  head  of  the  gulch,  and  turned  back. 

"Well,  guess  we'll  go  down  to  the  other  end,"  sighed 
Terry. 

"This  sure  is  a  tough  proposition,"  said  George, 
using  professional  language.  "Anyway,  we've  got 
enough  to  live  on  for  a  day  or  two,  haven't  we  ?  Won- 
der when  Harry'll  be  back." 

"He  won't  come  back  till  he  has  Duke;  you  can 
depend  on  that.  Maybe  he  hasn't  money  enough." 

"He  can  borrow  from  the  folks." 

"He  won't,  though.  He'd  rather  work  and  earn 
some  more." 

"You  can  sell  your  mine,  can't  you,  if  you  have  to?" 
asked  George.  "He  said  sell  it.  And  we  can  sell  the 
True  Blue.  I'd  as  lief." 

"We  gave  it  to  Virgie,"  reminded  Terry. 

"Aw,  she  wouldn't  care.  It's  no  good,  is  it?  It 
doesn't  own  any  water." 

"Well,  'tisn't  as  good  as  the  Golden  Prize,"  admitted 
Terry.  "Maybe  we'll  sell  the  Golden  Prize  and  find 
something  better.  But  I'd  like  to  wait  till  Harry  comes. 
I'd  hate  to  sell  it  to  that  Pine  Knot  Ike  gang." 


204      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"They  offered  you  $100,  though,  didn't  they?" 

"Y-yes,"  admitted  Terry.  "It's  better  than  nothing, 
of  course." 

They  two  (for  Shep  had  been  left  to  guard  the 
cabin)  were  retracing  their  steps  by  a  slightly  differ- 
ent route  down  the  opposite  side  of  the  gulch,  so  as  not 
to  miss  any  chances,  and  now  came  upon  the  wheel- 
barrow man. 

"Why,  hello,  young  Pike's  Peak  Limited,"  he 
greeted.  "How's  the  gold-seeking  business?" 

"We're  not  gold-seeking,  we're  job-seeking,"  ex- 
plained Terry.  "Do  you  know  of  a  job  for  a  couple 
like  us?" 

The  wheel-barrow  man  appeared  to  have  packed  up. 
His  blanket  roll  and  a  fry-pan  and  tin  cup  were  laid 
ready  in  front  of  his  closed  cabin. 

"What's  the  matter?  Didn't  your  prospects  pan 
out?"  he  queried. 

"We  haven't  any  water,  so  we  quit.  Then  I  worked 
for  Pat  Casey,  and  he  quit,  and  we  can't  even  sell 
pies,"  confessed  Terry. 

"Where's  your  other  partner?" 

"He  went  down  to  Denver  and  Auraria,  to  buy  our 
buffalo  back.  They're  trying  to  match  Duke  against  a 
bear." 

"Pshaw !  That  so  ?  I'm  going  down  to  Denver  my- 
self, to  look  about  in  time  before  snow  flies.  I  under- 
stand it  begins  to  snow  up  here  in  September,  and 
everybody'll  be  driven  out." 

"What'll  you  do  with  your  mine?  You've  got  one, 
haven't  you?"  asked  George. 


NEVER  SAY  DIE!  205 

"Sure  pop,  young  man.  And  it's  recorded,  too,  on 
the  district  books ;  and  if  anybody  jumps  it  while  I'm 
gone  there'll  be  a  heap  of  trouble  for  him.  It's  in 
black  and  white,  described  according  to  miners'  law. 
Say — if  you  boys  really  want  to  work,  you  go  on  to 
Gregory  Point,  near  the  mouth  of  the  gulch,  and  maybe 
you  can  get  a  day's  work,  or  several  days'  work,  on 
the  new  church  they're  putting  up  there  for  a  preacher." 

"Come  on,  George,"  bade  Terry.  And — "Much 
obliged,"  he  called  back.  "Where's  your  wheel-bar- 
row?" 

"Played  out  at  last.  Don't  need  it,  anyway.  Can 
carry  all  I've  got  on  my  back." 

"What's  'recorded'?"  queried  George,  as  they  hur- 
ried off.  "Are  our  claims  recorded?" 

"Don't  think  so,"  puffed  Terry.  "Nobody  told  us 
to  record  'em.  They're  ours,  and  we've  been  sitting  on 
them  right  alone.  I'll  ask  Harry  when  he  comes 
back." 

"Or  we  can  ask  Pat  Casey,"  proposed  George. 

They  did  not  find  Pat.  His  pit  was  idle  and  he 
was  away — hunting  witnesses  to  the  sale  by  which  he 
had  bought  the  prospect.  But  they  found  the  church, 
or  rather  the  site  of  the  church,  on  Gregory  Point,  as 
that  was  called,  near  the  mouth  of  the  gulch.  Already 
a  platform  like  a  floor  had  been  constructed;  several 
men  were  busy  hauling  logs  and  leveling  the  ground 
with  spades  for  another  building;  and  the  Yale 
preacher  from  the  True  Blue  claim  had  his  sleeves 
rolled  up  and  was  working  with  the  rest.  It  was  to 
be  his  church! 


206      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

He  warmly  welcomed  Terry,  and  shook  hands  with 
George  also. 

"Yes,  indeed;  plenty  of  work  here,"  he  jubilated — 
and  Terry's  heart  beat  expectantly.  "We  need  strong 
arms.  Bring  along  ax  and  spade,  and  pitch  in.  But," 
he  added,  "everything  is  donated,  of  course.  The 
labor,  material,  ground — all  is  a  gift  to  help  the  good 
cause.  The  people  in  the  gulch  are  mighty  generous, 
and  their  payment  will  come  in  this  opportunity  regu- 
larly to  worship  God  instead  of  always  worshipping 
gold.  They  can't  live  in  a  civilized  fashion  without  a 
church.  So  the  quicker  we  have  such  a  place,  the 
better.  What  do  you  say?  Want  to  help?" 

Terry  looked  at  George;  George  looked  at  Terry. 

"I'd  rather  do  that  than  do  nothing,"  blurted  George. 
"Only " 

"So  would  I,"  answered  Terry.  "But  you  see,"  he 
said,  to  the  preacher,  "those  claims  have  played 
out " 

"That's  too  bad,"  sympathized  the  preacher.  "Both 
of  them?" 

"Yes,  sir.  We  can't  mine  'em  till  we  have  water. 
The  water's  gone.  And  our  jobs  busted,  and  I  reckon 
we'll  have  to  earn  our  keep.  But  we'd  as  lief  help  here 
till  we  strike  another  job." 

"All  right.  Bully  for  you!  To  work  once  in  a 
while  for  something  besides  money  never  hurts  any- 
body," assured  the  preacher.  "I  have  to  do  a  lot  of 
that  myself.  Bring  down  your  tools  whenever  you 
feel  like  it.  I  expect  some  of  the  men  will  be  working 
here  all  night  because  they  can't  spare  the  time  during 


NEVER  SAY  DIE!  207 

the  day.  We're  going  to  finish  the  church  and  my 
cabin  before  Sunday.  But  maybe  you'd  rather  wait 
till  morning.  It's  nearly  supper  time  now.  Come 
after  supper,  though,  to  the  prayer-meeting.  We  hold 
the  first  prayer-meeting,  around  this  platform.  And 
I'll  want  you  to  join  the  Sunday-school." 

They  left  the  enthusiastic  preacher  and  his  volunteers 
building  the  first  church  in  the  diggin's. 

"Might  as  well  go  home,  I  guess,"  remarked  Terry. 

Twilight  was  empurpling  the  hills  when  they  ar- 
rived. This  had  been  a  lively  day,  but  not  a  very 
successful  one. 

"Anyway,  we've  got  enough  to  eat,"  quoth  George. 
"And  if  we  work  on  the  church  that  may  lead  to 
something  else.  We'll  keep  busy." 

"Sure,"  agreed  Terry.  "Keep  a-going,  as  Harry 
said,  all  the  way  out.  Keep  a-going." 

By  the  time  that  they  had  finished  supper  and  washed 
the  dishes  the  gulch  was  again  redly  outlined  by  the 
hundred  camp  fires.  The  sounds  of  axes  and  picks 
and  saws  had  ceased,  and  there  arose  the  hum  of  con- 
versation, broken  by  shouts  and  laughs  and  occasional 
bits  of  music. 

As  they  stumped  along  their  way  to  the  prayer- 
meeting  (which  was  quite  an  event)  they  passed  a 
tent  where  somebody  was  playing  the  violin — and  far- 
ther on,  in  a  cabin,  a  group  of  men  were  singing 
"Home,  Sweet  Home,"  to  the  tune  of  an  accordian. 

The  prayer-meeting  was  being  held,  sure  enough. 
There  on  the  point  was  the  platform,  lighted  by  torches 
and  surrounded  by  a  throng  of  people  sitting  on  the 


208      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

ground  and  stumps  and  boxes  and  logs,  listening  to 
the  preacher.  Or — no ! 

"That's  the  Lord's  Prayer!  They're  all  saying  the 
Lord's  Prayer!"  uttered  George,  awed. 

So  they  were — or  at  least  from  this  distance  the 
cadence  sounded  like  the  Lord's  Prayer,  repeated  in 
unison  by  those  whiskered  men  of  flannel  shirts  and 
high  boots  and  revolvers  and  by  the  tanned  women  in 
shabby  calico  dresses.  A  great  sight  that  was — and 
a  very  good  sound,  for  these  parts  or  any  parts. 

"There's  another  meeting!"  whispered  Terry,  for 
he  did  not  feel  like  speaking  aloud  when  the  Lord's 
Prayer  was  being  recited.  "Haven't  got  two  preach- 
ers, have  we  ?" 

For  just  below  the  prayer-meeting  a  man  was  stand- 
ing in  an  open  wagon  and  addressing  another  crowd. 
He  was  talking  fast,  the  listeners  jostled  and  craned, 
and  the  flare  of  the  pitch-pine  torch  planted  on  the 
wagon  lighted  their  hairy,  up-turned  faces. 

"We'll  have  to  go  and  see,"  uttered  George ;  who,  as 
a  tenderfoot,  was  eager  to  see  everything. 

Presently  the  words  of  the  man  in  the  wagon-box 
could  be  heard  above  the  refrain  of  the  Lord's  Prayer 
around  the  platform.  He  was  somebody  whom  Terry 
never  had  noticed  before  in  the  gulch — a  thin,  slab- 
sided  man  with  carroty  hair  and  beard  and  dressed  in 
prospector's  clothes ;  wore  a  revolver ;  no  preacher,  he. 
Certainly  not,  for 

"Yes,  gentlemen,"  he  was  saying,  "not  more'n  fifty 
miles  from  here  there's  a  place  where  every  one  o'  you 
can  wash  your  pound  o'  gold  dust  to  a  man  per  day. 


NEVER  SAY  DIE!  209 

Me  and  my  partners  are  the  first  white  men  in  there; 
we've  made  our  locations  and  our  laws  and  have  started 
a  new  camp  that'll  be  a  world-beater.  Tarryall,  we've 
named  it ;  in  the  big  South  Park :  the  best  and  richest 
country  on  the  face  o'  the  earth.  As  soon  as  I  get 
provisions  here  I'm  goin'  back  in,  and  I'll  take  any  o' 
you  who  want  to  go  with  me,  on  the  understandin' 
you'll  respect  our  rights  as  first  locators.  There's 
plenty  room,  gentlemen — and  a  pound  o'  gold  a  day 
per  man  waitin'  to  be  dug.  It's  yours,  gentlemen,  if 
you  want  it.  We'll  welcome  you  to  Tarryall.  Only 
fifty  miles  to  fortune,  remember.  I'll  show  you  the 
way,  but  I  start  early  in  the  mornin'." 

The  crowd  jostled  excitedly.  On  the  outskirts 
George  clutched  Terry  hard  by  the  sleeve. 

"Let's  go !"  he  exclaimed.  "Did  you  hear  ?  A  pound 
a  day!  That  beats  these  diggin's.  Cracky!  I  knew 
there  was  some  place  where  a  fellow  could  dig  his 
pound  a  day.  We  can  go  and  make  our  strike,  and 
then  'twon't  matter  whether  we  sell  these  claims  in 
here  or  not." 

"All  right ;  let's,"  agreed  Terry,  fired  with  the  same 
idea.  "We'll  locate  for  ourselves  and  Harry,  too;  or 
if  they  won't  allow  boys  to  locate  in  their  own  names 
we'll  locate  in  Harry's  name  and  my  dad's  and  your 
dad's!  Harry'd  never  go  to  any  of  those  other  big 
strikes — the  Bobtail,  or  the  one  in  Russell  Gulch,  or  a 
lot  more.  We've  stuck  here,  when  we  might  have  been 
getting  rich  somewhere  else." 

"Come  on  back  to  the  cabin  and  pack  up,"  urged 
George. 


210      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

They  turned,  when  a  voice  at  their  elbow  stayed 
them. 

"Got  the  fever  again,  have  you?" 

He  was  the  "Root  Hog  or  Die"  professor. 

"Guess  so,"  grinned  Terry.  "You've  been  away, 
haven't  you  ?  Did  Green  Russell  find  you  a  mine  ?  Do 
you  know  that  man  in  the  wagon?  Has  he  made  a 
big  strike?" 

"Never  saw  him  before  and  don't  know  anything 
about  him,"  answered  the  professor.  "Yes,  I've  got  a 
few  prospects,  but  I'm  holding  them  for  more  water. 
Just  now  I'm  recorder  for  this  district.  They  elected 
me  only  the  other  day.  How  are  you  doing  ?  Where's 
Harry?" 

"We're  waiting  for  water,  too.  He's  down  at  Den- 
ver, but  he's  coming  back.  Will  you  record  our 
claims?  Do  we  have  to  record  them?" 

"No,  you  don't  have  to.  It  might  be  safer,  though. 
But  I  can't  record  them  tonight.  The  books  are  locked 
up.  What  are  they?" 

"The  Golden  Prize  and  the  True  Blue.  They're  over 
there." 

"I  know.  You  look  me  up  at  the  office  first  thing 
in  the  morning  and  we'll  record  them." 

"We  won't  have  time.  We're  going  to  follow  that 
man  in  the  wagon  to  the  new  strike,"  explained  Terry. 
"Nobody'd  said  anything  about  recording  until  this 
evening.  But  we'll  be  back." 

"Well,  I'll  make  a  memorandum,  then,"  proposed 
the  professor,  "so  you'll  be  safer.  Nobody's  liable  to 
jump  your  claims  while  you're  gone,  if  they  can't  be 


NEVER  SAY  DIE!  211 

worked.  The  gulch  is  full  of  such  claims.  But  you 
look  me  up  as  soon  as  you  can." 

"All  right.  Much  obliged,"  replied  Terry.  "Maybe 
we  won't  want  those  claims  after  we've  been  to  the 
new  strike." 

"We'd  better  be  going.  We've  got  to  find  Jenny 
and  pack  our  stuff,"  urged  George,  impatient. 

"Good  luck  to  you,"  called  the  professor,  as  they 
hastened  away. 

"Id  like  to  surprise  Harry  with  a  regular  gold 
mine,  by  the  time  he  sees  us  again,"  uttered  Terry. 

"Sure.  We'll  leave  a  note  in  the  cabin  saying  we've 
gone  to  get  rich,"  enthused  George. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

TO  THE  POUND-A-DAY 

THERE  was  very  little  time  to  be  lost.  When  in  the 
morning  they  had  eaten  breakfast  and  had  packed 
Jenny  (who  did  not  seem  to  object  to  a  change  from 
doing  nothing  all  day)  with  a  buffalo  robe  and  a 
blanket  and  the  picks  and  spades  and  cooking  stuff  and 
some  provisions,  and  had  placed  a  note  for  Harry — 
"Gone  to  get  rich.  Will  see  you  later" — and  sallied 
down  the  gulch,  Terry  with  his  shot-gun  on  his  shoul- 
der and  George  with  his  wooden-hammer  revolver  at 
his  belt,  and  each  with  a  gold-pan  slung  on  his  back, 
the  procession  for  the  new  diggings  already  had  started. 

It  looked  quite  like  business,  too — a  long  file  com- 
posed of  men  riding  horses  or  mules,  and  of  men  driv- 
ing pack  animals,  and  of  other  men  afoot  and  carrying 
their  packs,  pressing  south,  out  of  the  gulch,  evidently 
following  the  lead  of  the  Tarryall  man. 

"Once  we  locate  our  pound  of  gold  a  day,  these 
other  diggings  can  go  hang,  can't  they  ?"  puffed  George, 
as  they  hurried. 

"I  should  say !"  concurred  Terry.  "All  we'll  do  will 
be  to  come  back  and  get  Harry  and  sell  to  that  Pine 

212 


TO  THE  POUND- A-D AY  213 

Knot  Ike  crowd,  and  then  we'll  light  out  again.  Glad 
we  didn't  say  where  we're  bound  for.  When  we  sell 
we  can  pretend  to  Ike  that  we're  plumb  disgusted." 

"Sure.     Let's  push  up  in  front." 

They  were  fast-footed  and  Jenny  was  long-legged, 
and  they  passed  one  after  another  of  their  rivals,  until 
they  were  well  toward  the  van.  The  wagon-man  guide 
could  be  seen  in  the  advance,  guiding  up  a  steep  divide 
between  the  North  Clear  Creek  and  the  South  Clear 
Creek.  The  route  appeared  to  be  by  an  old  Indian 
trail;  and  the  divide  itself  grew  into  a  mountain. 
Higher  and  higher  led  the  trail — a  tough  climb  that 
made  the  procession  straggle. 

It  was  a  great  relief  when  the  trail  conducted  down 
again,  on  the  other  side,  to  South  Clear  Creek,  and 
crossed,  and  turned  up,  through  a  beautiful  country, 
to  a  couple  of  lonely  lakes.  But  presently  it  began  to 
climb  over  another  mountain! 

Terry  limped,  George  limped,  everyone  afoot  limped, 
no  stop  had  been  made  for  lunch.  Everybody  was 
afraid  that  somebody  else  would  get  to  the  pound-a- 
day  first. 

"Wonder  how  far  we've  come  now  ?"  panted  George. 

"You're  a  tenderfoot.  You're  petered  out  already !" 
accused  Terry.  "We  aren't  half  there." 

"I  don't  limp  any  worse  than  you  do,"  retorted 
George. 

"Keep  a-going." 

"Keep  a-going." 

On  top  of  this  mountain  they  all  in  the  advance  ran 
into  a  snowstorm,  while  the  people  lower  down,  be- 


214      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

hind,  evidently  were  warm  and  comfortable.  Then 
night  fell — a  real  January  night — and  camp  had  to  be 
made. 

However,  George  was  game.  He  proved  to  be  a 
good  campaigner,  for  a  tenderfoot;  and  as  an  old- 
timer  Terry  of  course  needs  must  pretend  that  this 
kind  of  camping  was  nothing  at  all.  So  they  pitched 
in  together  and  cooked  supper  like  the  rest  of  the 
crowd,  and  went  early  to  bed  on  top  of  the  blanket 
and  underneath  the  buffalo  robe. 

"Jenny  won't  thank  us  any  for  bringing  her  from 
summer  right  into  winter,  I  reckon,"  murmured 
George,  as  he  and  Terry  spooned  against  each  other, 
to  keep  warm. 

"No,"  replied  Terry.  "This  'pound  of  gold  a  day' 
song  doesn't  mean  anything  to  her  yet.  But  it'll  be 
warm  down  in  Tarry  all,  they  say — just  like  back  at 
the  Gregory  diggin's." 

"We  ought  to  get  there  tomorrow." 

"Depends  on  how  many  more  of  these  mountains 
there  are,"  reasoned  Terry.  "Without  that  Tarryall 
man  to  guide  us  we'd  all  be  lost,  sure." 

On  and  on  and  on,  into  the  south  and  southwest, 
continued  the  march:  down  and  up,  across  more 
creeks,  across  more  mountains,  into  canyons  and  out 
again;  and  when  night  arrived,  no  South  Park  and 
Tarryall  diggin's  were  yet  in  sight.  Nothing  was  in 
sight  but  thick  timber  and  wild  rocky  ridges  extending 
to  snow-line.  Near  or  distant,  before,  behind,  on 
either  side,  the  landscape  was  the  same. 

"A  few  miles,  boys,  and  we'll  be  there,"  promised 


TO  THE  POUND- A-D AY  215 

the  Tarryall  man.  "  'Bout  tomorrow  noon,  say. 
Then  for  your  pound  a  day." 

"Seems  as  though  that  pound  of  gold  a  day  was 
always  ten  or  forty  miles  ahead  of  a  fellow,"  com- 
plained Terry.  "First  it  was  at  Cherry  Creek,  then  it 
was  at  Gregory  Gulch,  and  now  it's  somewhere  yon- 
der. He  said  fifty  miles,  and  I  bet  we've  hoofed  a 
hundred  and  still  we  haven't  struck  it  yet.  Guess 
Harry  and  I'll  have  to  sell  the  Golden  Prize  so  as  to 
get  us  some  boots.  Look  at  mine !" 

"We'll  make  moccasins  or  trade  for  some  with  the 
Injuns,"  consoled  George.  "When  you're  getting  your 
pound  a  day  you  won't  care." 

The  straggling  procession  was  well  worn  out  by  two 
days  of  long,  hard  marching  afoot  and  ahorse,  and 
most  of  the  animals  were  foot-sore.  But  tonight's 
camp  was  more  cheerful,  because  the  new  diggin's  lay 
close  before,  over  the  next  divide.  Yes,  the  Tarryall 
man  had  promised  truly,  for  about  eleven  o'clock  in 
the  morning  the  head  of  the  procession  shouted  and 
cheered  and  waved. 

"South  Park,  boys— and  Tarryall's  in  sight!" 

"Hooray!"  cheered  everybody,  as  the  news  spread 
back  from  mouth  to  mouth  and  ear  to  ear. 

"Gwan,  Jenny!"  bade  George,  clapping  her  on  the 
gaunt  flank;  and  driving  her,  he  and  Terry  limped 
faster. 

Because  they  were  boys  they  had  been  well  treated, 
on  the  way  over,  but  now  when  new  diggin's  were  so 
close  at  hand  they  might  expect  no  favors.  Every 
party  must  rustle  for  itself. 


216      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Jenny !  Gwan !  Do  you  want  to  be  left  ?  Gwan ! 
Hep  with  you !" 

"Hep  with  you !"  echoed  Terry. 

Jenny  did  her  best;  before  and  behind,  the  other 
outfits  were  doing  their  very  best — crashing  recklessly 
through  the  brush  and  timber  and  sliding  and  tumbling 
over  the  rocks.  The  head  of  the  procession  had  dis- 
appeared over  another  little  rise — perhaps  was  already 
in  and  at  work  locating  the  best  pound-a-day  claims! 

"Jenny!  Jenny!  Yip!  Gwan!"  urged  George  and 
Terry.  And  with  their  rivals  treading  on  their  heels 
they,  too,  mounted  the  little  rise,  gained  the  top,  and 
now  in  the  clear  could  gaze  anxiously  beyond. 

"I  see  it!     I  see  the  camp!"  exclaimed  Terry. 

"So  do  I.  But,  whew !  this  is  a  big  place,  isn't  it  ?" 
puffed  George. 

South  Park  was  indeed  large,  and  also  beautiful; 
being  an  immense  flat,  miles  wide  and  miles  long, 
grassy  and  green  and  dotted  with  timber  patches  and 
bare  round  hills — yes,  and  with  buffalo  and  deer,  too ! 
— and  well  watered  by  winding  streams  and  the  snows 
of  high  encircling  mountains.  The  sight  might  well 
make  one  gasp,  but  another  sight  should  be  attended 
to  first :  that  of  the  leading  gold-seekers  spurring  their 
horses  and  mules  diagonally  across  in  a  race  for  a 
glimmer  of  tents  set  amidst  willows  and  pines  against 
the  west  edge. 

And  pellmell,  hobbling  and  shouting  and  straining, 
all  the  ragged  company  strung  out  after. 

"If  we  won't  be  first,  we  won't  be  last,  just  the 
same,"  panted  Terry. 


TO  THE  POUND-A-DAY  217 

The  Tarryall  diggings  resolved  into  three  or  four 
tents  and  several  bough  huts  along  a  creek  where  it 
formed  a  broad  gulch  as  it  issued  from  the  mountains. 
The  gulch  was  being  worked  with  rockers  and  pans, 
and  claim  stakes  seemed  to  be  planted  clear  through, 
from  side  to  side.  In  fact,  when,  breathless,  their  eyes 
roving  eagerly,  Terry  and  George  arrived,  business- 
bent,  it  looked  as  though  the  whole  ground  had  already 
been  occupied  by  the  discoverers ! 

"Tarryall!  This  isn't  Tarryall— it  ought  to  be 
named  Grab-all!"  was  denouncing  one  of  the  leaders 
who  had  won  the  race  from  the  last  ridge.  "What 
do  you  think,  boys  ?"  he  addressed,  as  the  other  Greg- 
ory Gulch  in-comers  paused  and  jostled  uncertainly. 
"There  are  twelve  of  these  Tarryall  fellows,  and 
they've  each  of  'em  staked  off  two  thousand  feet! 
That  means  twenty-four  thousand  feet  of  claims — 
nearly  five  miles !  Is  that  fair  ?  No !  By  miners'  law 
a  claim's  one  hundred  feet." 

"You're  right.     One  hundred  feet." 

"Tear  up  those  stakes." 

"No  thousand  or  two  thousand  foot  business  goes 
with  us !" 

"They've  invited  us  in  here.  They've  got  to  give 
us  a  show." 

"Grab-all!  Grab-all!  That's  the  name  for  this 
camp :  Grab-all !" 

The  murmur  of  responses  was  instant.  The  Greg- 
ory Gulch  men  surged  angrily.  The  Tarryall  men — 
twelve,  now  that  the  guide  from  Gregory  Gulch  had 
joined  them — stood  in  a  compact  little  group.  They 


THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

were  a  sturdy,  rough-and-ready  squad,  well  armed  and 
able  to  take  care  of  themselves.  Their  spokesman,  a 
burly,  shaggy-bearded  individual,  stepped  out  a  pace, 
and  tapped  the  butt  of  his  revolver  significantly. 

'That's  tall  talk,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "but  it's 
wasted  on  us.  This  is  our  camp.  We've  discovered 
this  ground.  We  came  in  here  first,  where  no  white 
men  ever  prospected  before  and  where  the  Injuns  are 
liable  to  raise  our  hair  any  moment ;  we've  drawn  our 
own  regulations,  and  I  reckon  we're  going  to  hold 
what  we've  got.  No  white  men,  or  Injuns  either,  can 
tell  us  what  we're  to  do.  If  you  want  peace  you  can 
have  it;  if  you  want  a  fight,  you  can  have  it;  for  here 
we  are,  and  anybody  that  tries  to  jump  a  claim  that 
we've  got  marked  out  will  be  making  his  last  jump — 
you  can  bank  on  that.  There's  plenty  ground  left; 
don't  you  touch  ours." 

For  a  minute  things  looked  ugly,  as  the  Gregory 
Gulch  crowd  growled  indignantly,  and  the  Tarryall 
squad  waited,  watchful  and  unafraid.  Then  the  other 
man  spoke. 

"Let's  have  dinner,  boys.  After  that  we'll  prospect 
'round  and  hold  a  little  meeting,  and  see  whether  this 
camp  is  to  be  Tarryall  or  Grab-all.  Tarryall  is  what 
we  were  invited  to  join,  but  if  these  fellows  think  we're 
in  here  to  buy  them  out  because  we  can't  find  anything 
else  to  do,  they're  mighty  mistaken.  It's  a  smooth 
scheme,  but  it  won't  work." 

"We  can  run  'em  out,  all  right,  if  they  don't  play 
fair,"  boasted  George,  as  he  and  Terry  imitated  the 
rest  of  the  company  and  prepared  dinner. 


TO  THE  POUND-A-DAY  219. 

"I  don't  know.  There'd  be  a  lot  of  men  killed," 
reasoned  Terry.  "They  were  in  here  first,  and  we 
promised  to  respect  their  rights  as  locators." 

"We  weren't  told  they'd  staked  out  all  the  ground, 
though.  They're  allowed  only  a  hundred  feet  at  a 
time." 

"That's  the  Gregory  Gulch  rule,  but  this  isn't  Greg- 
ory Gulch;  it's  a  different  district,"  argued  Terry, 
who  felt  that  he'd  rather  prospect  than  fight.  "Maybe 
we  all  can  find  thousand-feet  claims." 

"Well,  we  can't  find  'em  in  Tarryall,"  stormed 
George.  "And  Tarryall's  the  place  we  were  brought 
to.  I  guess  they  expect  us  to  buy.  It's  a  put-up  job." 

The  meeting  was  held  immediately  after  dinner. 
Hot  speeches  were  made,  and  several  resolutions  were 
passed:  one  changing  the  name  from  Tarryall  to 
"Grab-all,"  and  another  declaring  that  all  claims  should 
be  one  hundred  feet.  However,  nobody  seemed  quite 
up  to  enforcing  this  new  rule  on  the  claims  already 
staked.  Amidst  threats  and  bluster  and  glowering 
looks  the  Tarryall  squad  warily  resumed  their  daily 
work,  and  gradually  the  Gregory  Gulch  crowd  spread 
out,  searching  here  and  there  for  color,  but  taking 
care  not  to  trespass. 

"No  fight,"  decided  George,  as  if  disappointed.  "It's 
going  to  be  just  a  grab-all.  Get  your  tools  if  you  want 
your  pound  a  day." 

"That's  what  we  came  for,"  reminded  Terry,  as 
they  shouldered  pick  and  spade  apiece.  "We  won't 
wait  for  any  fight.  Come  on ;  leave  the  stuff  here." 

"Somebod/ll  steal  your  shot-gun." 


220      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Don't  think  so.  I  can't  carry  that,  too!  But  I 
can  put  it  in  one  of  those  Tarryall  tents." 

"I'll  wear  my  revolver.  I  don't  leave  that,"  pro- 
nounced George,  wagging  his  head. 

"Sure.  You  ought  to  travel  well  heeled,  in  these 
parts,  sonny."  One  of  the  Tarryall  men  had  strolled 
over.  "If  you  don't,  that  Dutchman  will  take  your 
scalp." 

"What  Dutchman?"  demanded  Terry. 

"He's  holed  up  in  a  gulch  about  a  mile  yonder.  He's 
like  the  rest  of  us  original  discoverers — what  he  has 
he's  bound  to  keep.  We  all  give  him  a  clear  field,  and 
I'd  advise  you  to  do  the  same.  It's  an  unhealthy 
neighborhood  hereabouts  for  claim  jumpers.  You're 
two  plucky  lads.  Any  more  in  your  party?" 

"No,  sir.  We're  our  own  outfit,"  informed  Terry. 
"But  we've  got  another  partner,  and  some  prospects, 
back  in  the  Gregory  diggin's." 

"Do  you  know  where  we  can  dig  a  pound  a  day 
here?  That  man  who  brought  us  in  said  you  were 
digging  a  pound  a  day,"  challenged  George. 

"So  we  are — or  will  be  as  soon  as  we  get  our  lum- 
ber in  place  for  sluices.  But  you  newcomers  won't 
locate  any  pound  a  day  ground  in  this  gulch.  We've 
seen  to  that  and  we  don't  propose  to  be  bullied  out  of 
our  rights  as  discoverers.  We  risked  our  lives  to 
come  in  here ;  but  of  course  we'd  be  glad  of  company. 
We  own  the  ground  and  we  own  the  water.  You 
fellows  find  your  ground  and  your  water,  and  all  to- 
gether we'll  stand  off  the  Injuns.  I  thought  I'd  warn 
you  about  the  Dutchman,  though — you  two  boys,  at 


TO  THE  POUND- A-D AY  221 

any  rate.  I  don't  want  to  see  you  harmed.  You  were 
speaking  about  leaving  your  scatter-gun,"  he  concluded, 
more  gruffly,  to  Terry.  "That's  all  right.  I'll  keep  an 
eye  on  it  for  you.  If  you  don't  bother  the  Dutchman 
he  won't  bother  you." 

"He'd  better  not,"  asserted  George.  "I'm  going 
to  wear  my  gun.  Who  is  he  and  what  does  he  want 
around  here?" 

"Crazy,  I  told  you.  Thinks  he  has  a  strike,  and 
maybe  he  has.  But  it's  well  to  let  a  crazy  man  alone, 
and  as  long  as  he  stays  away  from  us  we  stay  away 
from  him.  The  park's  big  enough  for  that.  Dutch- 
man Diggin's,  we've  named  his  gulch.  One  of  the 
boys  happened  in  there,  by  accident,  and  was  run  out 
at  the  point  of  a  shot-gun.  All  we  see  of  the  Dutch- 
man is  when  he's  hunting,  and  even  then  he's  not  far 
away  from  home,  you  bet.  Now,  that  gulch  is  just 
beyond  the  second  bunch  of  timber,  south.  See?  And 
I'm  warning  you,  friendly,  because  you're  young." 

"We'll  watch  out.    Much  obliged,"  promised  Terry. 

"Yes,  but  he'd  better  watch  out,  too,"  blustered 
George.  "We're  no  tenderfeet.  This  gun  of  mine  is 
a  humdinger.  He  won't  know  it's  got  a  wooden  ham- 
mer, and  it  might  shoot." 

"Pshaw,  now!"  laughed  the  Tarryall  man.  "You 
certainly  walk  kind  of  tender-footed.  But  go  ahead 
and  find  your  pound  a  day." 

"Guess  we'll  try  south,  just  the  same,"  said  Terry, 
to  George,  as  they  struck  off.  "We  can  dodge  the 
Dutchman,  and  there  aren't  many  of  the  crowd  down 
that  way." 


222      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Where'll  we  begin  ?"  queried  George,  keeping  pace. 

"Whenever  we  come  to  a  low  place  where  there's 
water  we'll  pan  for  color.  That's  the  only  way,"  in- 
structed Terry.  "The  gulches  are  the  best  places." 

"Well,  we'll  have  to  locate  our  own  diggin's  pretty 
quick  and  hustle  back  for  Harry,  or  we'll  be  all  out 
of  grub,"  declared  George. 

This  search  for  color  was  fascinating  work,  es- 
pecially when  they  had  the  field  practically  to  them- 
selves. There  were  so  many  likely  places,  one  after 
another.  Terry  planned  to  pattern  after  John  Greg- 
ory, and  follow  the  color  right  to  the  source — that  is, 
follow  it  when  once  they  had  found  it.  But  to  find  it 
was  the  chief  difficulty. 

They  panned  faithfully  clear  up  the  first  gulch,  to 
its  head — passing  a  few  other  "panners."  Then  they 
took  the  trail  of  a  side  draw  and  crossed  over  to  an- 
other gulch  and  panned  there.  Once  they  thought  that 
they  had  struck  something,  but  it  proved  to  be  only  a 
trace,  and  they  lost  even  that.  The  country  was  get- 
ting wild  and  lonely. 

"Don't  suppose  there  are  any  Injuns  watching,  do 
you?"  suddenly  suggested  George,  as  they  were  cross- 
ing a  little  pass  that  appeared  to  lead  to  still  another 
draw  or  gulch. 

"No."  Pine  and  rock  basked  peacefully  and  inno- 
cent in  the  afternoon  sunshine.  "Nobody  said  any- 
thing about  'em.  Shep  would  smell  'em.  He  hates 
Injuns.  We'll  try  this  next  gulch  and  come  out  at  the 
lower  end,  and  then  make  tracks  for  camp.  The  sun's 
going  to  set." 


TO  THE  POUND-A-DAY  223 

They  crossed  over  the  ridge  and  descended. 

"She  looks  like  a  good  one,  this  time,  doesn't  she !" 
appraised  George,  while  they  strode  and  slid  and 
leaped  down  the  short  slope,  with  Shep  scouting  on 
either  hand. 

"We're  too  high  up  for  water,  though,"  criticized 
Terry.  "Can't  pan  witjiout  water." 

The  gulch  was  a  small  one,  and  dry.  They  fol- 
lowed along  the  bottom,  where  a  stream  course  had 
worn  the  pebbles  round  and  scored  the  soil  into  banks. 

"I  hear  water,"  uttered  Terry.  "There's  a  stream 
ahead,  all  right." 

The  gulch  was  joined  by  another  gulch  entering  at 
an  angle — and  by  a  stream,  as  well. 

"Here's  your  good  place  to  pan,"  exulted  Terry. 
"See  the  gravel  and  the  bars  ?  Sort  of  an  eddy.  Regu- 
lar pound-a-day  place !" 

"Yes;  and  somebody  else  has  been  digging,  too!" 
growled  George,  disgusted.  "Can't  we  ever  discover 
anything?" 

"They  aren't  digging  now.  Those  are  only  gopher- 
ings.  We'll  get  deeper.  That's  where  the  big  strikes 
lie — down  deep  on  bed-rock,"  encouraged  Terry. 

"Dig  deep,  boy,"  bade  George. 

"Dig  deep,  for  a  pound  a  day." 

And  they  set  to  work.  George's  spade  clinked  on 
rock,  and  at  blade  length  he  carefully  dumped  dirt  and 
gravel  into  his  pan. 

"Golly,  I  believe  I  see  gold!"  he  breathed.  Terry 
paused  to  await  results.  George  panned  feverishly — 
grew  more  and  more  excited.  "Hurrah!  Look-ee 


224      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

here!  We've  struck  it!"  His  pan,  not  yet  fully 
cleared,  was  sparkling  and  yellow  all  over  the  bottom ! 
"We've  struck  it!" 

"We've  struck  it!"  cheered  Terry,  forgetful  of  his 
own  pan  awaiting. 

They  danced.  Shep  barked  and  gamboled.  And  a 
heavy  voice  broke  in  with — t 

"Ja!  You  struck  it.  Maybe  not!  Maybe  you  get 
struck  mit  a  club !  Hold  your  hands  up  an'  keep  quiet 
until  I  see  what  kind  of  robbers  you  are  dot  come  into 
my  gulch." 


CHAPTER   XX 

MILLIONS    IN    SIGHT 

GEORGE  dropped  his  jaw  and  almost  dropped  the 
pan.  He  and  Terry  stopped  short  in  their  dance,  Shep 
growled,  they  all  stared ;  stared  into  the  muzzles  of  a 
double-barrel  shot-gun  projecting  over  the  top  of  a 
big  boulder  not  fifteen  steps  at  one  side,  ard  also  into 
the  eyes  of  a  man  squatting  concealed  and  squinting 
over  the  sight.  He  was  bare-headed  and  tow-headed. 

He  slowly  arose,  with  shot-gun  leveled,  and  proved 
to  be  a  pudgy  fat  man  in  dirty  checkered  shirt  and 
faded  blue  overalls  with  bib  and  straps ;  regular  barn- 
yard overalls. 

"Gee,  the  crazy  Dutchman!"  gasped  George. 

"Dot  is  one  lie,"  corrected  the  man,  steadily.  "Joost 
like  American  boys,  who  haf  no  respect.  You  come 
into  my  gulch  to  steal  mein  gold  und  you  call  me 
'crazy*  und  a  'Dootchmann,'  und  for  dot  I  haf  a  mind 
to  blow  off  your  heads  off.  Ja!"  In  Ms  anger  he 
spoke  with  a  stronger  German  accent  than  ever.  "Vat 
vou  want,  anyhow?  Where  you  from?" 

"Oh — I  know  you !"  exclaimed  Terry,  gladly.  "Sure 
I  do.  And  you  know  me.  You're  the  Lightning  Ex- 

225 


226      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

press.  Remember,  you  sold  us  your  sacks.  I  thought 
you'd  gone  home.  What  are  you  doing  in  here?" 

Now  the  German  grped  and  stared.  He  slowly 
lowered  his  gun,  and  grinned  widely. 

"Ja,  ja.  Sure!  You  are  one  of  dose  Pike's  Peak 
Limited  boys.  Ja,  ja!  You  wass  driving  a  mule  an* 
a  boof'lo.  Ja,  ja!  Well,  well!  An*  where  is  dot 
partner — dot  nice  young  man  ?  And  who  is  dis  odder 
boy  ?  An'  what  you  doing  in  my  gulch — say !" 

"We  didn't  know  it  was  your  gulch.  This  boy  is 
George  Stanton.  He's  my  partner,  too.  My  other 
partner's  down  at  Denver.  We've  been  over  in  the 
Gregory  diggin's." 

"An'  are  you  prospecting  alone?  Dere  is  more  of 
you?"  demanded  the  German,  suspiciously. 

"No,  we're  alone,"  assured  Terry. 

"Well,  well.  Is  dot  so  ?  Den  you  needn't  be  afraid. 
I  would  not  harm  goot  boys.  Nein,  nein."  Now  ap- 
parently in  fine  humor,  he  waddled  forward  to  shake 
hands. 

"We're  not  afraid,"  replied  Terry. 

"I  should  say  not,"  alleged  George.  "Your  gun 
wasn't  cocked,  and  we  could  have  ducked.  You'd 
have  had  to  fight  the  two  of  us  at  once,  besides  the 
dog.  That's  a  powerful  dog.  He's  licked  an  Injun." 

"Is  dot  so?"  repeated  the  German,  eying  Shep.  "I 
stick  my  one  foot  in  his  mouth  an'  kick  him  mit  de 
odder.  But  no,  no.  Fighting  is  not  goot.  I  only 
fight  to  protect  my  gulch.  Come  on  down;  come  on 
down  to  where  I  lif,  an'  we  haf  supper." 

"This  is  your  dust,  isn't  it?"  queried  George,  prof- 


MILLIONS  IN  SIGHT  227 

fering  the  pan.  "It's  out  of  that  dirt.  Do  you  own 
all  the  gulch?" 

"Ja;  my  gulch.  But  nefer  mind.  You  keep  what 
you  find.  I  haf  plenty,  plenty.  Come  on  down  now 
an'  I  show  you  somet'ings.  You  odder  boy  wash  your 
pan.  Den  we  all  go." 

Terry  delayed  not  in  washing  his  panful  while  he 
had  the  permission.  It  yielded  fully  as  much  yellow 
as  had  George's !  Whew !  They  had  struck  rich  pay- 
dirt,  at  last,  and — shucks!  It  belonged  to  somebody 
else.  However 

"Keep  it,  keep  it,"  bade  the  German,  with  grand 
gesture.  "It  is  not  worth  my  bodder.  I  haf  plenty. 
I  gif  you  so  much,  but  I  do  not  want  you  to  steal  it." 

So  they  carefully  scraped  the  treasure  into  George's 
new  buckskin  sack  already  open.  "We'll  divvy,"  pro- 
posed George,  "but  let  me  carry  it,  will  you?" — and 
accompanied  the  German  down  the  main  gulch. 

"Ja,"  he  explained,  to  Terry,  "I  did  start  myself 
back  an'  I  sell  you  an'  dot  odder  partner  my  sacks 
an'  my  tools  an'  my  sauerkraut.  An'  den,  when  dose 
stages  begin  to  pass  me,  an*  peoples  begin  to  come,  I 
t'ink  maybe  I  was  one  fool  again,  so  I  turn  'round." 

"How  did  you  get  in  here,  though?"  asked  Terry. 
"Are  you  the  first?  Did  anybody  else  come  with 
you?" 

"Ja,  I  am  the  first.  No,  nobody  else  come — joost  me 
an'  my  family  an'  my  wagon  an*  my  oxen.  People 
said  "the  mountains,  the  mountains,  the  gold  is  not  at 
Cherry  Creek,  it  is  in  the  mountains';  so  we  go  into 
de  mountains,  an'  we  climb  up  an'  we  climb  down, 


228      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

an*  when  we  get  to  where  dere  is  plenty  gold,  we  stop. 
Dose  fellers  in  dot  odder  gulch  dey  come  later,  but  I 
pay  no  attention  to  dem,  except  when  one  is  in  my 
gulch  an'  den  I  drive  him  out." 

How  the  Lightning  Express  ever  had  managed  to 
achieve  all  that  "climbing  up"  and  "climbing  down" 
until  it  finally  arrived  here  in  this  remote  spot,  Terry 
could  not  figure  out — and  the  German  seemed  not  to 
know,  himself.  He  certainly  had  earned  his  luck.  He 
had  spoken  truly,  too,  for  now  the  gulch  widened,  and 
there,  before,  was  his  headquarters — a  homelike  camp, 
with  the  two  oxen  grazing,  and  the  wagon  whose  torn 
top  still  displayed  the  legend  "Litening  Express,"  and 
a  bough-roofed  dug-out,  and  a  clothes-line  with  wash- 
ing waving  from  it,  and  his  family  hovering  around 
the  cook  stove  set  under  a  tree. 

"I  find  my  cook  stove  an*  pick  him  up,"  he  an- 
nounced. "Ja,  we  haf  lots  to  eat,  but  no  sauerkraut. 
Only  deers  an'  boof'lo  an'  chickens  an'  fishes." 

The  menu  sounded  very  alluring,  the  Mrs.  German 
and  all  the  six  girls,  even  the  youngest,  smiled  wel- 
come, and  the  two  guests  were  disposed  to  stay  for 
the  promised  supper.  But  first  their  host,  who  seemed 
extraordinarily  good-natured  and  hospitable,  mysteri- 
ously beckoned  them  aside ;  led  them  to  the  wagon. 

"Now  I  show  you  somet'ings,"  he  said.  "Let's  get 
in  mit  us."  He  laboriously  clambered  in  under  the 
hood.  They  followed. 

Evidently  the  wagon  was  being  used  as  a  sleeping 
place,  for  the  feather  tick  and  blankets  were  spread, 
and  two  red-flannel  night-caps  hung  against  the  frame- 


MILLIONS  IN  SIGHT  229 

work.  The  German  turned  back  the  blankets  and  tick 
part  way  and  exposed  several  fat  gunny  sacks  wedged 
in  amidst  other  stuff,  all  of  which  formed  a  floor. 

"Dere!"  he  grunted.  "Isn't  it?  Ja!  I  told  you 
once  I  fill  my  sacks.  Now  I  do  so." 

"What's  in  'em?"  blurted  George. 

"Gold.     My  gold." 

George's  eyes  bulged;  Terry  heard  him  pant,  and 
he  caught  his  breath  himself. 

"In  every  sack?" 

"Ja."  One  of  the  sacks  had  a  rent  in  the  upper 
side.  The  German  inserted  his  fingers  and  thumb  and 
extracting  some  of  the  contents,  displayed  the  sample 
in  his  pudgy,  calloused  palm.  The  sample  was  black 
sand,  all  yellowed  and  asparkle  with  glittering  grains. 

"I  wash  him  cleaner  when  I  get  time,"  announced 
the  German.  "First  I  fill  all  my  sacks  up  tight.  Den 
maybe  it  winter  an'  I  must  go  away.  My  wife  an*  I 
an'  two  leetle  girls  sleep  in  here  on  top;  dose  odder 
girls  sleep  under ;  nobody  get  my  gold.  I  fill  my  sacks 
in  my  wagon,  an'  some  day  I  hitch  up  my  oxen  an' 
drive  off  alretty."  He  smoothed  down  the  bed  again, 
over  the  treasure.  "I  am  a  smart  man.  I  save  some 
sacks,  dot  time  when  I  sell." 

"But  you've  got  millions!"  exclaimed  Terry.  "I 
should  think  you'd  go  out  instead  of  staying.  You 
can't  use  that  gold  here." 

"It  is  notting,"  asserted  the  German.  "My  gulch  is 
so  much  gold  I  cannot  dig  him  fast  enough.  If  I  go 
away  somebody  come  in  an'  steal."  He  blinked  at 
Terry  with  his  fat  eyes.  "Maybe  I  sell,  to  goqt  boys 


230      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

who  would  stay  an*  watch  while  I  go  an*  come  back. 
Den  we  could  all  work  togedder." 

"Sell  all  the  gulch?" 

"No,  no.  Maybe  I  sell  one  piece.  I  sell  dot  piece 
where  you  wash  out  dose  pans.  I  haf  plenty  more 
an*  I  do  not  like  to  walk  so  far.  I  sell  him  cheap — it 
is  netting  to  me,  but  I  will  not  be  stolen  from  I  sell 
him  to  goot  boys  for  $100." 

"One  hundred  dollars!"  gasped  Terry  and  George. 
They  could  scarcely  believe  their  ears. 

"Ja.  So  cheap.  I  will  not  gif  him  away.  It  is 
better  for  boys  to  pay  a  leetle  somet'ings,  an'  when 
dey  haf  bought,  den  dey  haf  rights.  One  hoondred 
dollar — you  bring  in  dot  odder  partner  an'  dig  all  you 
want  to  an'  you  watch  my  gulch,  an'  when  I  come 
back  we  all  dig  togedder  an'  get  rich." 

"But  how  much  land  will  be  ours  to  dig  in?" 

"I  do  not  care,"  and  the  German  airily  waved  his 
hand.  "Dere  will  be  t'ree  of  you?  I  sell  you  the 
right  to  six  hoondred  feet.  Dot  is  two  hoondred  feet 
apiece.  Ja.  An'  you  watch  an'  don't  you  let  any- 
body steal." 

Terry  looked  at  George.  George  was  fairly  purple 
with  excitement. 

"Guess  we'd  better  take  it." 

"Guess  we  had,"  agreed  George,  gruffly. 

"That's  a  bargain,  then." 

"We  haven't  got  a  hundred  dollars  here,  though," 
stammered  Terry,  to  the  German.  "We'll  go  back  to 
Gregory  Gulch  right  away  and  get  it,  and  get  our 
partner,  and  we'll  hustle  in  here." 


MILLIONS  IN  SIGHT  231 

"Dot's  all  right,"  agreed  the  German.  "Dot's  all 
right.  You  are  goot  boys.  I  wait.  I  haf  one  sack 
not  yet  full  alretty." 

"We  won't  stay  for  supper/'  proclaimed  Terry. 
"We'll  hustle.  It's  nearly  dark,  anyway.  Come  on, 
George!" 

He  piled  out.  George  piled  out.  The  German  rather 
tumbled  out.  They  grabbed  their  tools.  "Goot-bye, 
goot-bye,"  answered  the  German,  and  in  a  moment 
they  were  hurrying  down  the  gulch. 

"We'll  sell  the  Gregory  claims,"  panted  Terry.  "Sell 
to  Ike.  That's  where  we'll  get  the  hundred  dollars." 

"Sure,"  panted  George.  "Talk  about  your  pound 
a  day !  We'll  make  more  than  that  in  here." 

"I  should  say!  Reckon  we  washed  out  ten  dollars 
in  just  those  two  pans." 

"And  there'll  be  millions!" 

"That  German  has  a  million  now !" 

"Wait  till  we  tell  Harry  about  the  sacks." 

"Not  a  word  of  this  to  those  Tarryall  and  Grab-all 
folks.  Keep  mum !" 

"You  bet.  Don't  want  any  stampede.  We'll  pre- 
tend we're  going  out  disgusted." 

"Wonder  if  the  German  expects  us  to  stay  in  all 
winter?" 

"We  don't  care.  We  can  build  a  cabin  and  kill 
buffalo  and  deer." 

"And  pile  up  the  sand  and  wash  cleaner  after  the 


snow  comes." 


"Shall   we   start  tonight?     Ought   to   be   making 
tracks." 


232      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"N-no,"  said  Terry.  "It'll  be  dark  before  we  can 
pack  up.  Shucks!" 

For  the  sun  had  set  early  behind  the  high  peaks  and 
already  the  dusk  was  creeping  into  the  hollows. 

"We'll  start  first  thing  in  the  morning,  then,"  de- 
clared George.  "Hurrah!  We've  struck  it,  haven't 
we?" 

"That's  so."  The  fact  was  so  stupendous  that  Terry 
felt  almost  frightened  over  the  great  good  fortune. 

"Two  days  there  and  two  days  back  again." 

"He  said  he'd  wait.    He's  got  a  sack  to  fill." 

"Hope  we  don't  talk  in  our  sleep,"  babbled  George. 

"If  we  don't,  nobody'll  guess  we're  rich.  We  mustn't 
go  grinning  'round,  just  the  same,"  babbled  Terry. 

"No.     We'll  act  mad,  like  the  rest." 

And  so,  this  evening,  they  were  careful  to  appear 
very  solemn.  But  of  course  the  night  was  a  difficult 
one  for  sleep,  when  a  fellow's  brain  thronged  with 
golden  secrets. 

And  as  early  as  they  two  were  in  their  morning 
start  for  Gregory  Gulch,  others  were  as  early.  This 
camp  of  Grab-all  was  largely  a  disgruntled  camp. 
There  was  no  lumber  on  hand  for  sluices,  the  con- 
veniently worked  ground  had  already  been  taken  up 
by  the  Tarryall  men,  most  of  the  newcomers  were 
short  on  provisions,  nobody  knew  but  that  winter 
would  set  in  before  many  weeks;  and  so  everybody 
from  Gregory  was  planning  to  leave  as  soon  as  he  had 
located  a  claim. 

In  fact,  when  Jenny  finally  was  packed,  and  in  the 
pink  dawn  unwillingly  stepped  forth  at  the  bidding  of 


MILLIONS  IN  SIGHT  233 

"Gwan!  Hep,  now!"  from  Terry  and  a  slap  on  the 
flank  from  George,  half  a  dozen  outfits  were  heading 
up  the  trail. 

Urged  to  make  the  most  of  her  long  legs,  Jenny 
pressed  after. 

"You  boys  are  in  more  of  a  hurry  to  get  out  than 
you  were  to  get  in,  seems  to  me,"  challenged  one  party 
whom  they  passed.  "Must  have  heard  of  a  new  strike, 
eh?" 

"Yes,  sir-ee !"  affirmed  Terry,  daringly.  He  had  to 
say  that  much,  or  he'd  burst,  but  of  course  the  man 
did  not  believe  him. 

They  made  the  trip  in  best  time,  and  arrived  at 
Gregory  Gulch  soon  after  sun-up  of  the  third  morning. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

TERRY     MAKES    A    DEAL 

EVEN  in  the  short  time  that  they  had  been  absent 
the  Gulch  had  improved — for  now  on  Gregory  Point 
stood  the  preacher's  church.  However,  they  might  not 
stop  to  congratulate  him  and  to  explain  why  they  had 
not  helped.  All  this  fuss  and  furor  in  Gregory  dig- 
gin's  seemed  small  business  to  anybody  who  knew  just 
where  not  merely  one  pound  a  day  but  several  pounds 
a  day  were  to  be  made  easy. 

"If  Harry  hasn't  come  we'll  sell  to  the  Ike  crowd, 
anyway,"  declared  Terry. 

"He  told  us  to — he  said  we  might,  if  we  needed  it. 
Then  one  of  us  can  rustle  back  to  that  other  gulch  and 
the  other  can  stay  for  Harry,"  planned  George. 

"Somebody's  there,  all  right.  The  chimney's  smok- 
ing." 

"Must  be  Harry  getting  breakfast." 

"Jiminy  Christmas,  though!"  cried  Terry,  as  now 
they  neared  the  cabin.  "What's  going  on  ?  Looks  as 
if  he'd  brought  in  my  dad  and  your  dad,  and  they're 
working  the  claims !" 

Sure  enough:  the  sluice  had  been  moved  and 
slanted  in  another  direction,  water  was  pouring  from 

234 


TERRY  MAKES  A  DEAL  235 

the  lower  end  again,  and  two  figures  were  busy  beside 
it,  with  spade  and  pick. 

"Well,  they  won't  want  to  work  it  long,  when  they 
know  what  we  know,"  vaunted  George. 

The  two  figures  were  engaged  across  from  the  cabin, 
shoveling  and  pecking,  stooped  over,  and  apparently 
did  not  notice  the  Jenny  outfit.  So  the  home-comers 
aimed  straight  for  the  cabin,  and  were  just  about  to 
whoop  to  surprise  Harry,  when  Harry  stepped  out. 
But  no,  not  Harry ! 

It  was  Pine  Knot  Ike!  He  emptied  a  dish-pan  of 
water,  and  surveyed  Terry,  George,  Jenny  and  Shep. 
They  stopped  short  and  surveyed  him. 

"Say !  What  are  you  doing  in  that  cabin  ?"  accused 
Terry,  so  much  astounded  that  his  voice  cracked  on 
him. 

"Those  aren't  our  dads,  either,  over  there,"  whis- 
pered George. 

"I  air  livin'  hyar,  I  reckon,  but  'tain't  your  cabin," 
replied  Ike,  calmly,  and  chewing  his  tobacco. 

"I'd  like  to  know  why  it  isn't  our  cabin,  and  our 
land,  too!"  retorted  Terry. 

'*  'Cause  you  moved  off  an'  we  moved  on.  When  one 
party  doesn't  develop  a  prospect,  an'  doesn't  record  it, 
an'  quits,  an'  another  party  takes  it  up  an'  perceeds 
to  develop,  I  reckon  fust  party  loses  out,"  drawled  Ike. 

"But  it  is  recorded.  We  recorded  it  before  we  left. 
And  the  only  reason  we  didn't  develop  it  was  because 
you  took  our  water,"  furiously  answered  Terry.  "And 
we  didn't  move  off.  We  went  away  for  a  day  or  two, 
that  is  all." 


236      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"That's  right/'  blustered  George.  "I  heard  him  tell 
the  recorder.  And  you'd  better  move  off,  yourselves, 
or  we'll  have  you  put  off !" 

Pine  Knot  Ike  squirted  a  prodigious  stream  of  filthy 
tobacco  juice. 

"Waal,  now,  the  books  don't  show,"  he  asserted. 
"We're  hyar,  with  our  improvements,  workin'  a  claim 
that  looked  to  be  abandoned,  an'  I  reckon  that'll  count. 
We  take  our  water  off  an'  what's  your  prospect  wuth 
to  you,  anyhow  ?" 

"He's  a  big  bully,"  whispered  George. 

"We  want  to  sell,  though,"  reminded  Terry.  Ike 
seemed  to  be  giving  them  the  opportunity.  So — "It's 
worth  more  than  nothing,  just  the  same,"  he  replied. 
"That's  our  cabin  and  our  sluice  and  our  ground.  You 
needn't  think  you  can  come  over  and  jump  things  this 
way.  We've  got  plenty  of  friends  right  in  this  gulch, 
and  down  at  Denver,  too." 

"Reckon  that  sort  o'  talk  doesn't  amount  to  much. 
Possession  air  nine  points  o'  the  law,  young  feller," 
sneered  Ike.  "I  air  a  man  o'  peace,  but  when  anybody 
says  'fight,'  I  can  riz  on  my  hind  legs  as  quick  as  ary 
b'ar." 

"You  won't  amount  to  much,  either,"  accused  Terry, 
with  sudden  thought,  "after  I  tell  people  how  you  got 
that  Injun  head  and  how  you  shot  your  own  barrel 
full-  of  holes,  and  how  you  skedaddled  out  of  that  tent 
in  Auraria  and  how  Harry  made  you  dance  at  Man- 
hattan last  summer !" 

Pine  Knot  Ike  stared  and  glared  and  ruminated. 

"Mebbe  you  know  somethin'  an'  mebbe  you  don't," 


TERRY  MAKES  A  DEAL  237 

he  admitted.  "But  I  air  a  man  o'  peace  an'  so  air  my 
pardners.  To  save  hard  feelin's,  an*  argufyin',  how'll 
you  sell  what  you  call  your  rights  in  this  hyar  property, 
dust  paid  down  on  the  spot  ?" 

"We'll  sell  for  a  hundred  dollars,"  offered  Terry. 

"Whar's  your  pardner — that  lame  feller?" 

"He'll  be  here;  but  he  told  me  I  could  sell.  Didn't 
he,  George?" 

"Yes,  he  did.  I  heard  him.  He  said  to  sell  if  we 
wanted  to,"  confirmed  George. 

"Whoop-ee !"  summoned  Ike,  to  the  two  men  at  the 
sluice.  They  dropped  their  tools  and  crossed  over. 
One  was  the  giant,  before  encountered.  With  an  occa- 
sional side  glance  at  George  and  Terry,  they  and  Ike 
consulted  together  in  low  tones  for  a  minute  or  so. 
Ike  disappeared  into  the  cabin,  came  out  and,  advancing 
a  few  steps,  tossed  a  limp  buckskin  bag  at  Terry. 

"Thar's  your  hundred  dollars  in  dust,"  he  said, 
'  'cordin'  to  agreement.  You  stick  your  name  an'  your 
pardner's  on  a  bill  o'  sale,  an'  that  other  boy'll  be  wit- 
ness, an'  no  hard  feelin's." 

"How  do  we  know  this  is  $100?"  challenged  Terry, 
suspicious,  and  resolved  upon  being  businesslike.  One 
hundred  dollars  they  had  to  have.  But  what  luck ! 

"Take  it  to  some  scales  and  weigh  it,  and  have  it 
certified  to,  fust,  then,"  rapped  the  giant.  "You  won't 
find  us  gone  when  you  come  back.  We're  hyar  to 
stay." 

That  sounded  like  a  fair  proposition. 

"We  can  get  it  weighed  at  a  store,"  prompted  Terry 
to  George.  "Come  on." 


238      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Quick  work,  boy!"  praised  George,  as  with  Shep 
and  with  Jenny  (who  had  been  waiting  to  be  un- 
packed) faithfully  shambling  after,  they  hastened  for 
the  nearest  store.  "One  of  us  can  skip  out  with  it  for 
Dutchman's  Gulch  and  close  our  deal  there,  and  the 
other  can  stay  for  Harry.  Wish  he'd  turn  up." 

"There  he  is  now !     See  ?    Good !" 

"Where?  He  sure  is!  Riding  horseback!  And 
my  dad  and  your  dad  and  Virgie  and  Duke !  He's  got 
Duke!" 

"Yes,  and  Sol !  That  other  man's  Sol  Judy !"  cried 
Terry,  rejoicing.  "They've  all  come  in!  Bully  for 
them !  We  can  all  go  to  Dutchman's  Gulch — work  our 
claim  and  find  others — just  pile  up  the  dust!  Hi-oh! 
Hurrah!" 

They  shouted  and  waved,  and  cut  down  farther  into 
the  gulch  to  head  off  Harry's  party,  now  filing  up  as  if 
for  the  cabin. 

"Hello !» 

"Hello  yourselves!" 

"Hello,  Dad!    Hello,  Sol!" 

There  was  a  great  shaking  of  hands  all  around. 

"Where  you  going?    How's  Duke?    Hello,  Duke!" 

"Going  to  our  mines,  of  course,"  answered  Mr. 
Stanton. 

"Where  are  you  going  ?"  demanded  Harry.  "What's 
Jenny  packed  for  ?" 

"We're  going  out,"  informed  George.  "We've  made 
the  biggest  strike  you  ever  heard  of — pounds  a  day — 
in  another  place,  and  we've  bought  tons  of  pay  dirt 
for  only  $100,  and  we've  sold  the  Golden  Prize  to  the 


TERRY  MAKES  A  DEAL  239 

Ike  crowd,  and  we're  going  to  that  other  place  just  as 
quick  as  we  can  get  there,  and  so  are  you,  all  of  you, 
too!" 

"Sold  that  other  property?  What  for?"  chorused 
the  men. 

"To  pay  for  the  new  one.  We  hustled  back  on  pur- 
pose. Just  got  in,  and  now  all  we  have  to  do  is  weigh 
Ike's  dust  to  make  sure  he  isn't  cheating  us,  and  give 
him  a  bill  of  sale,  and  then  we'll  show  you  the  other 
place.  George  and  Harry  and  I  have  six  hundred  feet 
already,  but  there'll  be  more,  and  anyway  we  can  all 
work,"  bubbled  Terry. 

"How  do  you  know  what's  in  those  other  diggin's  ?" 
queried  Sol. 

"Because  we  saw  it!  We  washed  out  over  ten 
dollars  in  two  pans,  and  the  German  we  bought  from 
has  sacks  full!"  proclaimed  George.  "Regular  sacks 
full!" 

"He's  the  Lightning  Express  German,"  added  Terry. 
"Harry  knows  him.  He's  there  all  by  himself.  He 
wants  us  to  watch  his  diggin's  while  he  takes  his  gold 
out  and  comes  back.  That's  why  he  sold  so  cheap." 

"Great  Caesar!"  murmured  Harry.  "Sacks  full? 
Thought  we'd  bought  all  his  sacks  and  he'd  turned 
home?" 

"So  he  had,  but  he  changed  his  mind.  And  he's 
struck  it  rich,  rich !" 

"Where  are  those  new  diggin's  ?  Have  you  got  any 
of  the  dust  with  you  that  you  say  you  washed  out?" 
invited  Sol. 

"They're  over  near  Tarryall  or  Grab-all,  in  the 


240      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

South  Park ;  only  about  fifty  miles,"  answered  Terry. 

"And  here's  our  dust,  too,"  proffered  George. 

Sol  opened  the  little  sack  and  fingered  the  contents. 

"Gold!"  he  snorted.  "Yes,  fool's  gold.  That's 
nothing  but  iron  pyrites — 'tisn't  worth  a  cent  a  ton! 
Don't  you  know  the  difference  between  gold  and  iron 
pyrites  yet?  Thought  you  were  miners." 

"But  it's  from  the  German's  diggin's,"  stammered 
Terry — for  George  appeared  staggered  out  of  his  wits. 
"He  said  it  was  gold  and  he's  got  sacks  full,  right  in 
his  wagon." 

Sol  laughed. 

"Sacks  full,  eh?  Did  anybody  ever  see  gold  dust 
by  the  gunny  sack  full  ?  He's  the  same  crazy  German 
who  was  washing  fool's  gold  from  the  Platte,  I  reckon 
— thought  he  had  the  real  stuff  and  wouldn't  believe 
otherwise.  I  met  him,  myself,  when  he  was  traveling 
on  in  for  fear  somebody'd  rob  him." 

"Oh!"  groaned  George.    "We  thought " 

"Have  you  closed  the  sale  of  that  property  yonder? 
Haven't  given  a  transfer  yet,  have  you?"  sharply  de- 
manded Terry's  father. 

"N-no;  we've  got  the  money,  though.  We  were 
going  to  weigh  it.  They're  waiting — they're  there, 
working." 

"Who?" 

"Ike  and  two  other  men.  We  found  'em  there  when 
we  came  back." 

"By  ginger!  Jumped  it,  did  they?"  ejaculated  Sol. 
"Looks  like  we  were  just  in  time."  He  spurred  on, 
Harry  after. 


TERRY  MAKES  A  DEAL  241 

"You  boys  don't  go  a  step  farther,"  ordered  Mr. 
Richards.  "You  come  along  with  us.  Lucky  you 
didn't  give  any  bill  of  sale,  or  we  might  have  serious 
trouble." 

"But  Harry  told  us  we  might  sell,"  faltered  Terry. 

"Harry  didn't  know,  either.  Why,  there  are  thou- 
sands of  dollars  in  those  claims,  according  to  Sol.  The 
Ike  crowd  know,  all  right.  .Where  you're  to  blame  is 
for  having  gone  oft  on  a  wild-gose  chase  and  left  the 
claims  and  then  been  bamboozled  by  such  nonsense  as 
sacks  full  of  iron  pyrites.  Gold  dust  is  soft  and  dull; 
pyrites  are  hard  and  bright." 

"What  makes  you  think  the  Golden  Prize  is  so  rich, 
though  ?"  stammered  Terry,  as  he  and  George  tried  to 
keep  up  with  the  horses. 

"The  Golden  Prize  is  liable  to  be  a  fortune,  but  we're 
banking  on  that  other  claim,  the  one  you  gave  to 
Virgie.  She  happened  to  show  Sol  the  piece  of  rock 
she  brought  down,  and  he  says  it's  the  best  kind  of  gold 
quartz — fairly  oozing." 

"And  not  float,  either.  It's  from  a  surface  lode  close 
at  hand,"  put  in  Mr.  Stanton. 

"Aw,  shucks!"  sheepishly  said  Terry  to  George. 
"Guess  we  weren't  so  smart  as  we  thought  we  were. 
Now  Pine  Knot  Ike's  there  and  maybe  we  can't  get 
him  off." 

"Well,  he  may  assert  you  abandoned  the  claims,  but 
Sol  knows  all  the  mining  laws  and  we've  got  right  on 
our  side,"  consoled  his  father. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  spot,  Sol  and  the  Pine 
Knot  Ike  party  were  hotly  arguing. 


CHAPTER   XXII 


THE  "VIRGINIA  CONSOLIDATED" 


"ACCORDING  to  miners'  law  of  this  gulch  or  any 
other  district,"  was  declaring  Sol,  "when  a  party  can't 
work  a  lode  claim  by  reason  of  lack  of  water  or  proper 
machinery,  they've  a  right  to  let  it  lie  a  certain  length 
of  time ;  can  go  out,  and  come  back  to  it  again,  in  the 
meanwhile." 

"Yes,  mebbe  so,"  returned  the  giant.  "But  they  got 
to  give  their  intentions  to  the  recorder,  an'  there  ain't 
any  such  intentions  on  file." 

"There  are,  too — or  there  ought  to  be,"  contradicted 
Terry,  freshly  excited.  "I  told  the  recorder  myself — 
didn't  I,  George  ?  I  told  him  what  was  the  matter,  and 
that  we  were  going  away,  and  I  told  him  to  record  the 
claims,  and  he  said  he  would  till  we  got  back." 

"Oh,  you  did,  did  you !"  rasped  the  giant.  "That'll 
do  for  talk,  but  whar's  the  proof  ?" 

"When  did  you  see  the  recorder,  Terry?"  asked  his 
father. 

"The  very  night  before  we  left.  He  said  the  books 
were  locked  up,  but  he'd  remember." 

"Sure  he  was  the  recorder  ?" 

"Of  course  he  was.  He'd  just  been  elected.  He's 
242 


THE  "VIRGINIA  CONSOLIDATED"     243 

the  'Root  Hog  or  Die*  professor.  I  know  him  and  so 
does  Harry." 

"That's  the  man !"  exclaimed  Harry.  'Til  go  and 
get  him."  And  away  sped  Harry. 

"Furthermore  and  besides  and  notwithstanding, 
we've  regularly  bought  this  hyar  property,  and  thar's 
the  witness  to  the  transaction,"  continued  the  giant, 
pointing  to  George.  "We  paid  the  price  and  it's  been 
accepted,  and  when  money  has  changed  hands,  that 
settles  things." 

Attracted  by  the  dispute,  other  gulch  people  had 
begun  to  gather. 

"That's  right,"  pronounced  two  or  three. 

Terry  felt  his  heart  sink.  Had  he  made  a  botch 
of  the  matter,  with  his  hurry?  George  also  was  fright- 
ened, for  he  had  paled. 

"What  property  do  you  think  you've  bought,  then?" 
demanded  Sol. 

"Everything:  cabin  and  sluice  and  all.  And  you 
can't  touch  'em." 

"Where's  the  bill  of  sale?" 

"We  don't  need  any  bill  o'  sale  to  put  us  in  pos- 
session. We've  paid  the  money,  an'  hyar  we  air," 
replied  Pine  Knot  Ike.  "An*  we're  bad  when  we're 
riled.  Nothin'  riles  us  like  bein'  robbed,  an*  thar's 
nobody  as  bad  as  a  man  o'  peace  when  once  he's  riled, 
stranger." 

"But  you  couldn't  buy  that  True  Blue  prospect," 
rapped  Sol. 

"Why  not?  We  took  what  was  offered.  The  two 
claims  go  together.  Nothin'  was  said  different." 


244      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"Why  not?  Because  the  Golden  Prize  and  the  True 
Blue  aren't  owned  by  the  same  party ;  that's  why.  The 
True  Blue's  the  property  of  this  girl  here — has  been 
transferred  to  her  in  due  legal  form,  and  her  father 
holds  it  in  trust  for  her,  and  these  boys  couldn't  have 
sold  it  if  they'd  wanted  to !" 

"It  is  mine,"  piped  Virgie.  "It's  been  given  to  me 
and  it's  written  down  and  those  mean  men  sha'n't 
touch  it.  They're  getting  it  all  wet !" 

"Whar  are  your  papers  an'  whar  are  your  wit- 
nesses?" challenged  the  giant. 

"There's  one  witness,"  and  Mr.  Stanton  pointed  at 
George.  "You  heard  the  words  when  the  claim  was 
given  to  Virgie,  didn't  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  I  did,"  affirmed  George. 

"And  that  other  boy  was  one  of  the  owners  who 
agreed,  and  here  comes  the  second  former  owner  who 
signed  the  transfer  for  both." 

"Down  at  Denver,  before  a  notary  public,"  panted 
Harry,  arriving  with  the  "Root  Hog  or  Die"  profes- 
sor. "And  it's  been  recorded." 

"That  is  true,"  nodded  the  "Root  Hog  or  Die"  pro- 
fessor. "And  I  do  acknowledge  that  I  was  asked  to 
record  this  other  claim  also,  and  that  I  was  told  of 
the  intentions  and  reasons  when  it  was  temporarily 
left  unoccupied.  I  am  responsible  for  there  being  no 
official  memorandum,  but  I  entirely  forgot.  However, 
the  verbal  agreement  is  sufficient.  I  remember  per- 
fectly." 

"That  remains  to  be  seen,"  growled  the  giant — who 
seemed  to  be  the  spokesman  for  the  Pine  Knot  Ike 


YOU    DARE    TO    LAY    HAND    ON    THIS    OR    INTERFERE    IN    ANY    WAY    AND 
I'll    SHOW    YOU    WHAT    A    CALIFORNY    FORTY-NINER    KNOWS 
ABOUT    PROTECTING    PROPERTY  " 


THE  "VIRGINIA  CONSOLIDATED"     245 

party.  "As  for  that  other  prospect,  we  don't  fight 
gals.  It's  a  dry  claim,  anyhow;  hasn't  any  water  of 
its  own  an'  never  will  have.  As  for  this  claim  we're 
standin'  on,  we'll  keep  it.  It's  been  duly  bought,  paid 
for,  an'  it's  workable,  an'  that's  enough.  Ain't  I 
right,  boys?"  he  appealed  to  the  gathering  crowd. 
"When  money's  passed  an'  accepted,  that  binds  the 
sale." 

The  crowd  shifted  and  murmured.  Plainly,  they 
were  not  very  approving  of  the  Pine  Knot  Ike  party 
methods,  but  they  had  a  strong  sense  of  legal  rights. 

"  Tears  like  it  was  a  deal  in  good  faith,"  remarked 
somebody. 

"You  claim  that  cabin  and  everything  in  it,  do  you  ?" 
inquired  Sol. 

"Yes,  sir!  Everything  on  this  hyar  ground — fix- 
tures an'  improvements,  an'  don't  you  touch  a  finger 
to  'em,"  boomed  the  giant.  "You  an'  your  gal  have 
got  that  dry  prospect.  Go  over  an'  mine.  Mebbe  you 
can  mine  an'  mebbe  you  can't,  for  you'll  be  drier'n 
ever  as  soon  as  we  move  that  sluice  to  whar  it  be- 
longs." 

"Haw,  haw !"  gibed  Ike  and  the  other  man.  "You 
can  wait  for  a  dew." 

"No!  You  can  wait  for  that  sluice!"  retorted  Sol. 
He  spurred  his  horse  and  in  a  jiffy  was  beside  it. 
"You  dare  to  lay  hand  on  this  or  interfere  in  any 
way  and  I'll  show  you  what  a  Californy  Forty-niner 
knows  about  protecting  property." 

"Ain't  that  our  sluice?" 

"Not  an  inch,  now.     You  claim  the  cabin  and  all 


246      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

improvements  on  that  other  prospect — we  claim  the 
sluice  and  all  improvements  on  this  prospect.  I  reckon 
what  is  sauce  for  the  goose  is  sauce  for  the  gander. 
This  sluice  is  all  on  the  True  Blue  ground." 

"Hooray !"  cheered  the  willing  crowd. 

"You'll  have  a  sluice  without  water.  Mebbe  that's 
how  they  mine  in  Calif orny!"  jeered  Pine  Knot  Ike. 
"That  thar  water's  ourn  as  soon  as  it  comes  down  the 
leetle  draw  ag'in.  So  we'll  jest  natterly  turn  it  off  on 
you." 

"Not  by  a  jugful !"  objected  Sol.  "That  girl's  filed 
on  her  water  rights  in  this  little  draw,  when  her  claim 
was  recorded."  He  ran  rapid  eye  along  the  Golden 
Prize  surface.  "And  I  reckon  there  doesn't  any  water 
go  with  that  other  prospect,  anyhow !  I've  an  idee  the 
hundred  feet  ends  short  of  the  water." 

"So  have  I,"  asserted  Harry.  "Give  me  room,  gen- 
tlemen. Just  to  prove  that  my  notion's .  correct  I'll 
measure.  That  claim  was  only  stepped  off,  in  the  be- 
ginning." 

Harry  fished  a  surveyor's  tape  from  his  pocket  (evi- 
dently he  had  come  prepared)  and  from  the  first  claim 
stake,  near  the  cabin,  measured  the  length  of  the  Golden 
Prize  ground.  The  one  hundred  feet  ended  three  yards 
away  from  the  little  stream  course ! 

"The  two  properties  join,  so  that  puts  the  natural 
water  on  the  True  Blue  ground,"  triumphantly  pro- 
claimed Sol. 

"Mebbe,  when  thar  is  water;  but  thar  won't  be  any 
after  we've  started  to  use  again  on  our  other  workin's 
up  at  the  head,"  retorted  the  giant. 


THE  "VIRGINIA  CONSOLIDATED"     247 

"You  tried  that  once,  but  you  can't  do  it  a  second 
time.  We've  filed  our  rights  on  the  water  coming 
down  this  draw,  and  here  it  is,  and  by  miners'  law 
we're  entitled  to  our  share." 

"So  are  we,  then,  by  thunder!"  shouted  the  giant. 
"As  long  as  there's  water  flowin'  past,  we're  goin'  to 
have  some  of  it.  That's  miners'  law,  too.  We  can 
ditch  some  of  it  over " 

"No,  you  can't !"  A  new  voice  struck  in,  and  a  new 
figure  appeared.  Archie  Smith !  He  held  his  side  and 
panted  for  breath. 

"What  you  got  to  do  with  it?    Why  can't  we?" 

"Because  you  couldn't  have  bought  this  claim  even 
if  you  paid  over  the  money.  Do  you  want  to  sell? 
Do  you  want  them  for  neighbors?"  demanded  Archie 
of  Harry. 

"We  should  say  not!" 

"Well,  then,"  resumed  Archie,  panting,  and  address- 
ing the  Pine  Knot  Ike  party,  "you  didn't  buy  the 
Golden  Prize,  because  you  couldn't.  The  boys  didn't 
own  it.  They  wouldn't  take  it  from  me;  they  said 
they'd  work  it  while  I  was  gone,  and  now  I'm  back 
and  I  won't  sell — to  you.  And  I  order  you  to  get 
off." 

Terry  looked  blankly  at  Harry,  Harry  smiled  at 
Terry. 

"That's  so."    And  it  was  so,  now  that  they  thought. 

"B'  gorry,  the  same  thing  happened  to  me,"  an- 
nounced the  voice  of  Pat  Casey,  "an'  Oi  lost  me  dig- 
gin's.  Sure,  it  doesn't  seem  fair  play — though  Oi'm  a 
friend  to  the  boys." 


248      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

"It  is  fair  play,  in  this  case,"  asserted  Sol.  "You 
see,  gentlemen,"  he  said  to  the  crowd,  "these  two 
boys,  Harry  and  Terry,  came  in  here  and  proceeded  to 
work  this  ground.  They  had  the  water  and  they 
hustled  to  put  in  a  sluice,  and  were  beginning  to  wash 
out  pay  dirt,  when  those  mean  whelps,  suspecting  these 
prospects  were  richer  than  they  looked  to  be,  turned 
off  the  water  to  which  this  ground  naturally  was  en- 
titled— just  hogged  it,  made  the  waste  run  the  other 
way,  to  render  these  claims  useless  so  they  might  either 
be  jumped  or  bought  for  a  song.  The  same  whelps 
sneaked  around,  prospecting,  until  they  located  some 
of  the  richest  gold  quartz  you  ever  laid  your  eyes  on; 
then  they  told  the  boys  the  ground  was  no  good,  any- 
way— mostly  pockets  and  barren  bed-rock,  had  no 
water,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing — and  tried  to  get  'em 
to  move,  for  $100.  But  the  boys  stuck,  so  as  to  pay 
off  a  debt.  One  of  them  sold  pies  and  the  other 
worked  for  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  day.  Then,  while 
they  were  temporarily  absent,  these  whelps  jumped 
both  claims — and  look  at  the  rock  they've  already 
taken  out !" 

"B'  gorry,  they  ought  to  be  hanged !"  declared  Pat 
Casey.  "The  lads  are  honest  lads,  Oi'll  say  that  for 
'em.  An'  if  somebody'll  fetch  a  rope " 

"No,  no,  gentlemen,"  appealed  Sol,  as  the  crowd 
began  to  surge  angrily.  "When  the  dirty  deal  was 
started  there  was  no  law  in  the  camp;  but  you  have 
laws  now,  and  if  those  fellows  want  to  fight  we'll 
fight  them  with  law.  But  they're  licked,  and  they 
know  it." 


THE  "VIRGINIA  CONSOLIDATED"     249 

"Waal,"  conceded  Pine  Knot  Ike,  "if  we're  licked 
I  reckon  we're  licked,  an*  no  hard  feelin's.  We  air 
men  o'  peace.  We  bought  this  hyar  property  in  good 
faith,  but  bein'  as  the  other  party  ain't  satisfied  we'll 
take  our  hundred  dollars  in  dust  an'  move  off." 

"Where's  their  dust,  Terry?"  asked  Harry. 

"Hold  on  a  bit,"  objected  Mr.  Richards.  "Hold 
on!  How  much  gold  have  they  taken  out  already, 
since  they  jumped  these  prospects  ?  They've  been  run- 
ning that  sluice  for  at  least  a  couple  of  days." 

"We'll  leave  you  that  thar  pile  o'  sluice  tailin's ;  it's 
too  coarse  for  washin',"  replied  the  giant.  "And  thar's 
a  clean-up  waitin',  in  the  sluice.  But  you  got  to  give 
us  back  the  hundred  dollars'  purchase  price,  an'  do  it 
mighty  quick." 

"Don't  rile  us,"  warned  Ike. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Ike,"  spoke  Harry.  "We'll 
be  fair.  I'll  wrestle  you  for  that  $100.  If  you  throw 
me,  you  can  have  it,  and  if  I  throw  you  we  can  keep 
it.  You've  already  got  more  than  that  out  of  this 
ground — but  we  want  to  be  fair." 

"Don't  you  do  it,  Harry!"  protested  Father  Rich- 
ards. "There's  no  need  of  such  foolishness." 

"That's  what  I  say,"  added  Mr.  Stanton.  "We  won't 
allow  it." 

"I  know  what  I'm  about,"  replied  Harry,  with  a 
wink  at  Terry  and  George  and  the  breathless  Archie. 

"Young  feller,"  solemnly  said  Ike,  "I  ekcept,  ketch 
as  ketch  can,  but  keep  back  your  dog.  I  air  a  tough 
proposition  in  a  wrestle,  but  I  don't  aim  to  come  to 
grips  with  man  and  dog  at  the  same  time." 


250      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

Harry  alertly  threw  aside  his  hat  and  stepped  for- 
ward ;  Ike  did  the  like. 

"David  an'  Goliath!"  cheered  the  crowd;  and  in- 
deed the  match  did  resemble  that,  with  Harry  so  slight 
and  slim  and  the  shaggy  Ike  appearing  to  be  a  foot 
taller  and  a  foot  broader. 

"Has  he  any  show?  Do  you  think  he  can  throw 
him?"  whispered  Archie — referring,  of  course,  to 
Harry. 

"Sure  he  can,"  asserted  Terry.    "Can't  he,  George  ?" 

"He  usually  does  what  he  sets  out  to  do,"  agreed 
George. 

Now,  arms  half  out-stretched  and  shoulders  for- 
ward, Harry  and  Ike  were  circling  each  other,  in 
watchful,  eager  fashion.  Ike  rushed — "Look  out, 
Harry!" — but  Harry  dodged.  Ike  rushed  again;  this 
time,  quick  as  light,  Harry  darted  to  meet  him,  and 
they  were  locked — locked  with  arms  and  legs,  while 
they  tugged  and  swayed  and  Ike  grunted,  and  their 
boots  crunched  upon  the  rocks  and  gravel. 

"Harry's  got  the  under  hold !"  gasped  Terry. 

"Yes,  but  Ike'll  break  him  in  two !"  gasped  George. 

Virgie  was  crying  and  calling,  Shep  was  barking, 
the  spectators  were  shouting  all  sorts  of  advice.  And 
swallowed  in  Ike's  great  arms,  Harry  seemed  quite 
helpless,  simply  clinging  to  Ike's  waist,  with  his  face 
pressed  against  Ike's  shirt,  and  letting  Ike  dash  him 
hither-thither,  trying  to  upset  him. 

But  somehow,  Harry  always  landed  on  his  feet. 
Once  he  was  lifted  clear  in  air — only  to  come  down 
again  with  a  thump.  Twice  he  was  lifted — this  time 


THE  "VIRGINIA  CONSOLIDATED"     251 

actually  by  the  seat  of  the  trousers !  Ike  tried  to  pull 
him  in  and  bend  him  backwards,  but  Harry  stiffened 
and  bowed  his  back.  Then  suddenly  he  did  come  in — 
but  lightning  fast,  he  side-stepped  a  little,  thrust  him- 
self part  way  past  Ike,  stopped  farther,  and,  shifting 
his  grip  to  Ike's  thighs,  tilted  and  heaved. 

Up  rose  Ike,  pawing  and  kicking — up,  a  foot  off  the 
ground,  and  over  Harry  he  shot,  almost  horizontal, 
like  a  diver  from  a  spring-board,  to  plough  the  ground 
beyond  with  his  shoulder. 

"Ah!" 

"Ah!" 

"That  war  a  trick !"  scolded  Ike,  sitting  up  and  rub- 
bing his  tousled  head. 

"All  right,"  answered  Harry,  panting  and  laughing. 
"We'll  make  it  two  falls  out  of  three,  then.  I've  a 
couple  more  tricks." 

"No,  young  feller,"  grumbled  Ike,  still  rubbing  his 
head.  "I  can  wrestle  a  b'ar,  but  I  ain't  built  for 
wrestlin'  ary  combination  of  eel  an'  alligator  tail.  If 
you're  a  school-master,  what '11  you  take  to  teach  me 
that  holt?" 

"That's  not  for  sale,  either,"  laughed  Harry.  "But 
here's  your  sack  of  dust.  We  don't  want  it,  after  all." 
Thus  saying,  he  tossed  over  the  buckskin  sack,  and 
limped  to  get  his  hat  from  Terry. 

So  the  result  was  that  the  Pine  Knot  Ike  party  left 
good-naturedly,  and  the  crowd  dispersed  good-natur- 
edly, and  the  Golden  Prize  and  the  True  Blue  claims 
remained  in  undisputed  possession  of  the  victors;  all 
of  which  was  better  than  threats  of  further  row. 


2^2      THE  GREAT  PIKE'S  PEAK  RUSH 

Harry  shook  hands  with  Archie.  It  was  his  first 
opportunity. 

"Have  you  come  back  to  stay?  Hope  so.  It's  your 
mine,  you  know — and  it's  going  to  be  a  rich  one; 
richer  than  you  ever  imagined,  if  that  vein  from  the 
True  Blue  extends  through.  We'll  help  you  work  it 
while  we're  working  the  True  Blue,  but  the  True 
Blue's  enough  for  us." 

"I  don't  care.  It's  yours,  just  the  same.  I  gave  it 
to  you  once  and  I  give  it  to  you  again,"  insisted  Ar- 
chie. "This  time  I'll  make  out  a  regular  transfer. 
I'm  here  just  for  a  little  visit,  and  then  I'm  going  back 
East  to  stay  a  while." 

"Where'd  you  find  Sol,  Harry?"  asked  George. 

"Down  in  Denver  and  Auraria.  While  I  was  dick- 
ering for  Duke  he  turned  up.  He'd  been  at  Pike's 
Peak,  and  everywhere  else.  He  turned  up  just  in 
time." 

"Isn't  Mother  coming?  Don't  I  see  Mother?" 
queried  Terry  of  his  father. 

"We  may  send  for  her  and  George's  mother  after 
we  get  things  straightened  out  here.  But  you'll  see 
her  in  Denver,  anyway.  You  and  Harry'll  have  to 
go  down  there  for  some  clothes  pretty  soon.  She 
wants  to  see  you  mighty  bad." 

"Is  this  rock  gold  rock  ?  Doesn't  look  so.  How  do 
you  know?" 

"Sol  says  it  is.  Some  of  it,  I  mean.  He  knew  as 
soon  as  he  saw  that  piece  Virgie  brought  down.  And 
we're  lucky  that  he's  with  us.  He's  an  expert." 

Sol  had  been  tramping  about  with  a  spade,  scraping 


THE  "VIRGINIA  CONSOLIDATED"     253 

here  and  there  on  both  claims,  and  examining.  He 
joined  the  group. 

"There's  considerable  rotten  quartz  that  can  be 
sluiced,  and  probably  some  loose  dirt  to  be  washed; 
but  there's  a  thundering  fine  vein  or  lode  running  right 
across.  The  best  surface  showing  is  on^the  True  Blue, 
where  that  piece  of  rock  came  from,  but  I  reckon  that 
when  we  get  down  into  what  those  fellows  pretended 
was  the  bed-rock  on  the  Golden  Prize  we'll  find  it  just 
as  rich.  So  part  of  us  can  be  sluicing,  while  the  rest 
of  us  rig  some  sort  of  a  contrivance  to  crush  the 
quartz  and  wash  it  with  mercury,  till  a  regular  quartz 
mill  is  'stablished  near  us."  And  Sol  continued,  using 
words  and  terms  that  only  the  men  understood. 

"Shucks !"  acknowledged  Terry.  "We  were  looking 
for  dirt;  we  didn't  count  the  rock."  So  he  turned  to 
George,  who  was  lifting  Virgie  from  her  pony. 

"You  did  it,  Virgie,  with  your  piece  of  quartz. 
Now  you're  going  to  be  rich." 

"I  don't  want  to  be  rich  all  alone,"  objected  Virgie. 
"I  don't  want  to  be  any  richer  than  you  or  George 
or  Harry  or  Sol  or — or  anybody  of  us." 

She  looked  as  if  she  were  about  to  weep  over  it! 

"Of  course  not,  Virgie,"  called  Harry.  "You  won't 
have  to  be  rich  all  alone.  That's  a  miserable  state. 
But  you  can  share  with  your  father  and  Sol,  and 
Terry  and  Father  Richards  and  I  have  a  mine,  too, 
you  know;  and  just  to  make  sure  that  nobody'll  be 
any  richer  than  anybody  else  in  the  crowd,  we'll  all 
join  together  and  we'll  name  the  company  the  Virginia 
Consolidated !" 

THE    END 


The  Great  West  Series 


THE  BOY  SETTLER;  or.  Terry  in  the  New  West 

In  the  frontier  days  of  the  West,  when  Terry 
Richard  drove  his  ox  team  across  the  plains,  he 
opened  to  himself  and  his  boy  reader  friends  a  wide 
sweep  of  adventures — all  narrated  so  naturally  and 
realistically,  that  you  feel  they  must  have  been  true. 

THE  GREAT  PIKES  PEAK  RUSH;  or,  Terry  in  the 
New  Gold  Fields 

Terry  and  his  dog,  Shep,  accompany  Harry  Re- 
vere on  a  six  hundred  mile  trek  across  to  Colorado, 
spurred  on  by  the  lure  of  gold.  It  is  the  great 
"Pike's  Peak  or  Bust"  rush  of  1859,  when  boys  were 
called  upon  to  play  the  part  of  men. 

ON  THE  OVERLAND  STAGE;  or,  Terry  as  a  King 
Whip  Cub 

Here  we  have  the  next  phase  of  Western  devel- 
opment— in  the  rise  of  the  overland  stage  route 
leading  from  St.  Joe  clear  across  to  Sacramento. 
With  Terry,  who  helps  drive  stage,  we  meet  Buffalo 
Bill,  Sam  Clemens,  and  other  worth  while  people — 
also  some  not  so  much  worth  while,  but  no  less  to 
be  reckoned  with. 

OPENING  THE  IRON  TRAIL;  or,  Terry  in  the  Great 

Railroad  Race 

As  a  logical  sequel  to  the  stage  coach  came  the 
building  of  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad — an  under- 
taking so  fraught  with  danger  and  romance,  that 
no  single  book  could  hope  to  compass  the  entire 
picture.  This  book  is  a  fine  achievement — a  really 
big  story. 

A  Boy  Scout  Story 

PLUCK  ON  THE  LONG  TRAIL;  or.  Boy  Scouts  in  the 
Kockies 

How  a  patrol  of  Boy  Scouts  took  an  important 
message  one  hundred  miles  across  the  Colorado 
mountains,  and  the  perils  they  successfully  with- 
stood, is  the  subject  of  this  lively  story. 

Each  Book  Strikingly  Illustrated 


and  Trail  Serie 


BAR  B  BOYS;  or,  the  Young  Cow  Punchers 

Phil,  an  Eastern  boy,  goes  West  to  regain  his 
health.  He  misses  a  train,  is  picked  up  by  Indians, 
joins  a  ranch  of  cowboys,  and  after  a  variety  of 
adventures  learns  to  throw  a  rope  with  the  best 
of  them. 

RANGE  AND  TRAIL  ;  or,  The  Bar  B's  Great  Drive 

Phil  and  his  chum,  Chet,  after  a  hard  winter  on 
the  ranch,  go  with  other  cowboys  to  drive  up  a 
fresh  herd  of  cattle  from  New  Mexico.  Scenes  of 
the  long  trail  are  replete  with  color  and  excite- 
ment. 

CIRCLE  K;  or,  Fighting  for  the  Flock 

The  Bar  B  outfit  go  in  for  raising  sheep,  and 
through  the  medium  of  their  new  adventures  the 
reader  learns  many  interesting  facts  regarding  this 
great  industry.  There  are  thrills  a-plenty,  leading 
up  to  the  introduction  of  Grizzly  Dan,  the  old 
trapper. 

OLD  FOUPv-TOES;  or.  Hunters  of  the  Peaks 

Phil  and  Chet  go  with  Grizzly  Dan  on  a  hunting 
trip  among  the  passes,  peaks,  and  precipices  of  the 
Lost  Park  country.  They  have  brushes  with  hostile 
Indians,  and  get  on  the  trail  of  a  famous  grizzly 
bear,  "Old  Four-Toes."  With  them  we  see  another 
graphic  phase  of  Western  life. 

TREASUKE  MOUNTAIN;  or  the  Young  Prospectors 

Here  the  boys  turn  their  attention  in  still  an- 
other important  channel  —  that  of  gold  mining. 
They  set  out  to  locate  a  lost  mine  on  a  Rocky 
Mountain  peak,  and  find  —  but  the  reader  must  fol- 
low their  varied  adventures  for  himself.  It  is  a 
story  of  surprises. 

SCARF  ACE  RANCH;  or,  the  Young  Homesteaders 

Here  we  bid  farewell  to  Phil  and  Chet  and  their 
friends.  The  boys  have  taken  up  another  great 
branch  of  Western  life,  that  of  the  homesteader, 
who  stakes  his  claim,  clears  his  ground,  and  tills 
his  soil.  Like  all  the  preceding  stories,  this  has  a 
wholesome,  inspiriting  flavor. 

Each  Book  Strikingly  Illustrated 


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